


Bright Still

by Spoon888



Series: Bright Spots [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Cultural Differences, Forced Marriage, M/M, Megatron: 'I Can Fix That', Mentioned Seal Breaking, Starscream Is Kinda Messed Up, Sticky, The Imaginary Concept Of Virginity, canon mashup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2019-11-28 17:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 89,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: In order to strengthen political bonds during the turmoiling war, a reluctant Megatron is promised the 'fairest' seeker Vos has to offer.He should have suspected earlier why the Vosians were so eager to marry off their own crown prince.





	1. Who Will Bribe The Medics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote an 'arranged marriage' one-shot a few months back in my drabble series and a few commenters suggested using the trope for a multi-chapter length fic, so here it is!

_Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell._  
_Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,_  
_Yet grace must still look so._

Shakespeare, Macbeth.

 

* * *

 

The word of a seeker didn't mean much to Megatron. Whether they were a Winglord of the Citadel or a piece of shareware from a Cloud District brothel, he didn't trust such a self-involved overprivileged populace. However he felt about them personally though, he needed air support. He needed fliers with skill. There was only so much shuttles could do for him in battle, and he had few of them as it was.

But seekers were foreign complicated creatures, and luring them to his cause had proved harder than anticipated.

Thankfully, after the bombing of the Crystal Gardens it seemed Vos was finally ready to pick a side, choosing fear over loyalty, and Megatron was more than ready to receive what they came to offer.

It was the Winglord himself who sat across from him, a mech painted gold and royal red, pretentiously adorned with a dozen markings of honour along the edges of his broad aged wings. They were painted, Megatron's keen gaze noticed, not branded. Megatron had heard how sensitive their plating could be...

He'd briefly considered holding the Winglord hostage when the delicate, ignorant seeker arrived at the gates to his fortress with just a handful of guards, as if his rank alone would protect him. He was only a figure head though, just the face of the mysterious Vosian Council who held the true power. He was too expendable and too useless to work as a decent hostage, and killing him wasn't worth the bother of waiting for the Vosian's to send a second negotiator.

Regardless, Megatron didn't need a hostage to bend the city to his will. His Decepticons had them outnumbered three-to-one. The only reason he hadn't laid siege to Vos and blown the city half to Pit was because he had no desire to alienate soldiers he could potentially use.

And he _needed_ those seekers.

He had no plans on letting the Vosians know just how much. He sat back, sure and at ease, waiting to see what the old seeker would offer him to keep his city standing.

"The Crown Prince." The Winglord said.

"He is more than welcome to the position of Air Commander." Megatron nodded. "I will need someone to lead your seekers."

The Winglord shook his head. "You misunderstand. He will be your Air Commander for a time, but we require a position more _secure_ than a rank that can given and taken as easily as on a whim. You will conjunx him. He will bear your heirs, and only then will you have access to our Air Force. As soon as the heirs reach majority they will take their creator's place as Air Commanders, and you will be free to keep the Prince for... whatever purpose you might have for him."

The Winglord paused before continuing. "Outside leading, of course. He wasn't _built_ for that."

Megatron didn't like the implication that _anyone_ was 'built' with a specific purpose in mind. He tapped his digit against the table, shaking his head. "I have little need for a Conjunx or heirs. They'll serve as little else but distractions."

"A _welcome_ distraction, you'll soon find." The Winglord smirked unpleasantly. "The Prince is an attractive mech, Megatron of Tarn. Still sealed."

Megatron wanted to roll his optics, imagining some meek, low-winged mechling blushing under his gaze. "And If I refuse to take him?"

"Then I would have to reconvene with the council." The Winglord began to stand. "And hope they don't take offence at you spurning our prince."

Megatron couldn't imagine any alternative requests would be so generous. He could destroy the city, or he could learn to tolerate a seeker for a few years. He knew which was the better political move.

He stood, holding a hand out to stop the Winglord. "There's no need. I accept."

The Winglord stopped, his slippery smile slowly stretching across his mouth. He dipped his head. "Excellent. I'll send word ahead and have him sent over as soon as possible."

Megatron hummed, no quite so eager. "His name?"

The Winglord paused just before the doorway, surprised that he would care. "...Starscream."

"And he wants this?" Megatron asked, wondering.

The Winglord didn't answer immediately. "...I'm sure he'll be ecstatic when he hears the news."

 

* * *

 

  
Starscream wasn't ignorant enough of the plots occurring in his own home to be surprised when the Royal Chancellor appeared in his private quarters with the biggest smirk and half a dozen palace guards to happily inform him he'd been traded off to the Decepticon brute, Megatron of Tarn, in exchange for them all keeping their miserable lives.

"Did you tell him I was _sealed_?" Starscream mocked as he checked his claws for dirt, sprawled across his chaise lounge. "He'll be _disappointed_ , won't he Skywarp?"

The trine-mate smirked from the berth, but there was a spark of worry in the optics flicking between the chancellor and all the guards he'd brought.

For good reason. The smile slipped off the Royal Chancellor's face.

"For your sake that had better be a joke in poor taste. Your new conjunx isn't going to want someone's sloppy seconds. If he finds you unsatisfactory, he'll send you back to us with a declaration of war. That's if you're lucky, and he doesn't decide to keep you for other means."

Starscream wasn't impressed by the threats. He rolled his optics, but Skywarp began to fidget.

"You'll report to the palace medic," the Chancellor continued when he didn't answer, clicking his digits and sending the guards forward to surround Starscream. "And he can _replace_ whatever he might find _missing_."

With as much attitude as he could muster, Starscream rolled off the chaise lounge and onto his pedes. Skywarp dutifully followed after him.

"What's the point of me having another seal put in just so some brutish warlord can tear through it?" He shouted as he passed the pompous politician.

"Curb your attitude, Starscream." The Chancellor called after him, watching him and Skywarp turn into the corridor, shouldering the guards that tried to escort them out of their way. "Or I'll instruct the medic to tighten your callipers too."

Starscream snorted. It would take more than the threat of 'mechanical alterations' to scare him.

The medic, an ageing seeker called Overdose, wasn't any friend of Starscream's, but there wasn't a mech in the palace that wasn't susceptible to bribery. Starscream dutifully consented to the examination, and when Overdose slipped his gnarled digits into him, and frowned in judgemental disgust at what he found, or rather, what he _didn't find_ , Skywarp stepped forward with a healthy handful of shanix.

"He's sealed." Skywarp said pointedly,

Overdose removed his digits, looking between the shanix and Starscream with an arched brow, thinking he was being clever. "I'm not sure if he is."

Skywarp scowled.

Starscream rolled his optics, shutting his panel as he sat up. "Just pay him what he wants."

Skywarp begrudging started counting more into the medic's hands. "This is for your discretion too." He added, slapping the last shanix down. "I hear _any_ rumours about the 'Slut Prince of Vos' and I'm coming for _you_."

Overdose veered back, suitably cowed.

Starscream slipped out around him, knowing how little time he would be given to prepare himself.

The guards would wait till nightfall, when they'd think he'd be recharging and too disorientated to kick up too much of a fuss when they dragged him from his berth and hauled him into a transport ship set for Kaon. He wondered if he could escape, and if living life as a common mech would be worth remaining free.

He heard Skywarp catch up, falling into pace alongside him. "Was this a good idea?"

"Paying off Overdose? Of course."

"I meant about me and Thundercracker breaking your seals." Skywarp whispered hastily, glancing aside for eavesdroppers. "What if this Megatron jerk does notice, and gets angry?"

"Not every idiot outside Vos cares so much about an imaginary concept of purity. I doubt a common pit dweller turned warrior will." Starscream explained. "It was better that you did it. It can hurt. And it's not unheard of for some t make it hurt on purpose."

"Is that what he's like? This warlord?" Skywarp asked quietly. "The type who hurts someone on purpose."

"He's a _warlord_." Starscream ground out. "I can't imagine he has much patience for gentility."

Skywarp nodded, "We need to tell Thundercracker that it's going through."

"I'm sure he already knows. None of those crusty old fools on the council can keep a secret." Starscream glared at some of the stationed guards as he passed them. "But bring him to my quarters tonight. I want the both of you with me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not letting them ship me off to Kaon _alone_ , obviously." Starscream gave him an impatient look. "Who will bribe the medics for me?"

Skywarp smiled, and knowing his trine would travel with him and start a new life in a war torn pit-hole of a city was more than enough to boost Starscream's wavering confidence. He had never met a Tarnish mech, let alone a pit dweller, let alone a warlord, but surely, one power mad idiot was the same as the next, and Starscream knew how to deal with plenty of those.

 

* * *

 

Soundwave passed Megatron a message to say Starscream was on his way, and that a formal ceremony was already being arranged by the Vosian Council. If Megatron was to find their prince satisfactory, they would be conjunxed within the week.  
  
Megatron handed the message back, saying nothing. The Vosians certainly didn't waste any time. Courting in Tarn took years, often longer. A callous part of him thought he should be grateful for their speed. The sooner he fulfilled the Councils requirements, the sooner he would have an Air Force to rival that of any in this galaxy, let alone the planet. He had won a lot less with a lot more effort than just putting a newspark in the chamber of a pretty young prince.

"Take him to my quarters when he arrives." Megatron picked up his intel file again, frowning at yesterday's troop losses. "I'll attend to him there."

Soundwave tilted his helm.

"What?" Megatron snapped.

"Vos has strict social inhibitions concerning contact between betrothed pairs before they are conjunxed. The Crown Prince is arriving with an entourage tasked to ensure his virtue remains intact."

Megatron let the intel fall to the desk heavily. "Am I forbidden from speaking to my own intended?! In my own fortress?"

"Forbidden from being in his presence unchaperoned." Soundwave elaborated.

Megatron scowled down at the desk. Cultural inhibitions or not, the Vosians seemed to be taking extreme lengths to prevent him from speaking to this Starscream freely. It was suspicious. It raised flags.

"I want you to keep a close optic on the Vosians." Megatron decided. "Particularly how they speak out of my presence, when they think no one is listening."

"You wish to spy on our guests?"

"I wish to know, without the interference of others, if their Prince is a willing conjunx, or sold prisoner."

Soundwave nodded. "Acknowledged."

 

* * *

 

Starscream had heard little of Kaon. It wasn't a known vacation hot spot so it held little interest to him. He knew only that it was dark, humid, polluted, overpopulated, and _low_ , in more ways than one. He supposed it wasn't so overpopulated now that it had been conquered and ravaged. There were still dead in the streets. Starscream spotted a dismembered hand in the gutter as they passed into the inner city, and saw the fortress of Kolkular looming over them, high above the dank dwellings of Kaon's outskirts.

Decepticon insignias were painted in energon on the side of the buildings, and bulky low-caste labourers stood on every street corner, armed and angry, and branded with that same purple mark.

Starscream flicked his wings, wondering where Megatron would decide to brand him, and if that's the only way he planned to mark him.

"This sucks." Skywarp muttered behind him. "It's one thing to forbid us from just flying up there and making us walk, but couldn't they have sent a street cleaner through first. There's congealed _life-fluid_ in my thrusters!"

"Quiet, Warp," Thundercracker growled, sticking close to Starscream's left when Skywarp's raised voice attracted the attention of the nearest Decepticon thugs.

The Vosian guards in front of them prevented any trouble, but the Decepticons took a good long look at them as they passed. Starscream heard an appreciative whistle. Skywarp tried to turn around, mouth opening, but Thundercracker grabbed his wing and forced him forwards again. "Just walk."

Kolkular was a fortress built for battle, and as such, had limited entrances. Unlike the Royal Palace Starscream had called home, it didn't have a grand entryway, and there was no greeting procession, just a pair of huge shuttles with mounted arm cannons and bad attitudes. Starscream's Guard Commander stepped out and extended a datapad. One of the shuttles took it, then nodded, slapping a obnoxiously large red button behind him.

A low droning noise began, at which point Starscream realised the door was actually the entrance to the rickety old drill elevator he was clearly expected to ride up in.

"Can't we just fly?" Skywarp complained.

"And get disintegrated by the energy field?" The other shuttle laughed, gesturing up to the huge dome structure above the fortress. "Be our guests."

The elevator arrived and the shuttles stepped aside. The guards watched Starscream step inside, followed by Thundercracker and Skywarp.

"Farewell, your highness." The Guard Commander bid him goodbye, voice dripping with smugness. "Till we return on the eve of your ceremony."

Starscream sneered, and Skywarp slammed the manual door shut behind them. The elevator begin to rise.

"Maybe it'll look better on the inside?" Thundercracker murmured as they juddered higher, surveying the dull grey and rusted patches of the elevator. "Megatron calls himself a 'Lord'. I doubt he'd be satisfied with living somewhere that looks like such a... dump."

"He is Tarnish." Skywarp piped up. "One of the armoury workers I was talking to the other day said he visited, once. Said the miners recharged underground, in the dirt. With the ore worms."

Starscream wished he'd shut up.

"Megatron probably thinks this is homely." Skywarp continued, swiping a digit through rust and rubbing his fingers together. "Do you think we'll be recharging on the floor too, or just a pile of weapons?"

" _Skywarp_." Thundercracker growled in warning.

Starscream didn't the catch the look Thundercracker flashed him, but it was enough to buy them silence for the rest of the ride up.

When the elevator reached it's destination Starscream was half tempted to tell his trine to take it back down again and go home, but the door opened, granting him access into Kolkular's inner hub. A mech was stood wating for him, masked and visored, with a deadly looking mounted shoulder cannon. He didn't present himself like a Kaonite grunt, so Starscream assumed he must be important.

"Your highness." The mech greeted, vocaliser stuck on a low, droning monotone. He dipped his head to Starscream, without having needed to be told which one them, exactly, was the prince. He extended a large hand, "Soundwave."

Starscream went to take his hand, but Soundwave grasped his forearm instead, pulling him closer and tightening his grip briefly before letting go again. Starscream frowned, realising how much he was going to have to adapt to here if these lower castes couldn't even greet one another properly.

"My trine." He gestured back to Thundercracker and Skywarp, who flanked him closely, understandably overprotective. "They will be staying with me. Indefinitely."

Soundwave seemed to understand what he meant by indefinitely, nodding. "Lord Megatron has provided a room for you."

"And where is he?" Starscream craned his neck to try and see him in the busy inner hub, searching for a mech that might fit the vague description he had of Megatron; large, scarred, grey, and angry looking. Decepticons were milling about everywhere. Some warriors, most looked to be intelligence workers, moving between monitors and each other, passing datapads-

"Absent." Was all Soundwave said, stepping to the side to block Starscream's view of the largest monitor, which was playing footage of what looked like an Autobot facility. Soundwave gestured for them to follow him. "He will return to attend to you before nightfall."

"He can't touch Starscream till the ceremony next week," Skywarp piped up, jumping to conclusions, Starscream tried to elbow him to shut him up. "Ow! I'm just-"

"Lord Megatron is aware of your customs and has agreed to abide by proper Vosian Tradition in regards to the conjunxing." Soundwave's visor glinted over his shoulder. "No action will be taken by him that may threaten the security of this alliance."

Starscream scowled to himself. There went plan A. He'd been at least hoping for a reckless lecherous fool of a mech, one that thought with his spike as well as he did his processor. He might have been able to manipulate circumstances in his own favour that way.

Soundwave was watching him closely as they walked. Starscream made sure to school his features.

"Good." He finally acknowledged.

"You are reluctant?" Soundwave asked.

"Of course not." Starscream ignored the vile taste in his mouth as he lied and smiled. "I am here to do my duty for Vos, of course."

 

* * *

 

The room wasn't half as bad as Skywarp had prattled on about it being. It was at the very top of Kolkular, sharing the floor with several other rooms, one of which, he suspected, that must have been his intended's. It was unfortunately windowless, and when Skywarp asked, Soundwave had impressed upon how important Starscream's safety was. Windows would have made him too visible, too vulnerable.

The room was as grey as the rest of the fortress. It didn't have much rust, only the odd bit between the wall panels and in the corners, and he'd been given a berth. A bare one. Not a pillow in sight.

Starscream longed for his chaise lounge.

"We should have assassinated the Winglord as soon as we knew what he was planning." Skywarp complained, checking under the berth for intruders, or worse, listening devices.

"Yes, so the Chancellor could have traded Starscream for peace instead?" Thundercracker snarked, circling the room. Given it's size, it didn't take him long.

"Both of them then."

"And then General Whitewing? And his lieutenant?" Thundercracker continued. " _And_ the Foreign Secretary and his entire office and-?"

"Yes!" Skywarp crawled back to his feet. "Everyone. We should have killed everyone."

"Shut up," Starscream snapped, tired of them arguing over decisions long since passed. "We could have assassinated the whole palace and there still would have been someone ready to sell me into Decepticon clutches for their own benefit. And even if somehow there wasn't, and all those usurping politicians were dead, _I_ would be left in charge. And then whose head would have been sliced off when Megatron took the city by force? Mine, that whose!"

"He might not have killed you." Skywarp mumbled.

"No." Starscream agreed. "What do you think he might have done with me if he hadn't killed me? It was death or conjunxing. Those were the only choices I had."

He potentially had had that third option, which was worse than both, but he'd rather not think about that yet.

"If he's cruel-" Thundecracker began.

"Then we kill him." Starscream snapped again, taking a seat on the hard, stiff berth. " _After_ he and I are conjunxed and _after_ I have conceived his heir. No point assassinating a warlord if I can't take his place when he's dead."

Skywarp dropped down next to him, smiling adoringly. "You're so clever-"

Starscream nudged him away when he tried to get closer. "Don't do that. They don't understand trines here."

Skywarp sulkily pulled away, "No one's watching."

Starscream glared around the disgusting little room. "Someone is always watching."

 

* * *

 

Soundwave came to Megatron with an update on their guests sooner than he would have expected. He dismissed the sentry he had been speaking to to clear the room.

"Well?"

"Starscream; means to kill you." Soundwave reported without hesitation.

Megatron took a seat at the war table, gesturing for Soundwave to join him. Already he could feel a smile pulling at his lips. So much for his fears of conjunxing a meek little bird. The Vosians had seen fit to send him a raptor.

"Good." He poured them both a drink. "Tell me more."

 


	2. A Tub, A Hose, And A Warlord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been slow to update lately but things should start improving now.

The Warlord didn't visit them that evening. Starscream was torn between thankfulness at the delay and frustration for it. Ignorance, as many said, was bliss, but he liked to be prepared. The more he understood of this Megatron, the better prepared he'd be for spending life at his side.

 _Megatron's life_ , that was. Not his own, which he planned on being considerably longer.

It appeared the great warlord was busy with some unexpected trouble. Starscream wondered if his absence meant he had gone to deal with the trouble personally, or had chosen to spend his evening sitting around talking about what should be done with such trouble so he didn't have to deal with it personally. Starscream knew which sort of method the Vosian Council would have chosen. It was interesting to think of how differently things might be done here.

So just as the sky was beginning to darken, and Megatron still hadn't bothered to show his (rumoured ugly) face, some rough looking shuttle came to tell them of the change in plans, barging into Starscream's grey little room without so much as a knock. He gave Starscream and his trine a long look up and down, the sort that made Starscream's armour crawl and Thundercracker's lip curl. There was no lock on the door either, nothing to protect them from their own guards.

"Shouldn't you two be in your own rooms." The shuttle nodded to Thundercracker and Skywarp, pausing in the doorway and giving them suspicious looks, as though _they'd_ been the ones eyeing up _his_ Commander's intended's wings.

Thundercracker squared his shoulders, fists aloft, seemingly forgetting how he'd been unarmed upon apprehension at the Vosian Palace. "We're trined. We're not going anywhere."

"All three of you gonna fit on that berth, eh." The shuttle snorted, glancing in the direction of the sparsely sized metal slab. " _That_ , I'd like to see."

"Yeah I bet you would, creep." Skywarp bounced forwards, equally as unarmed. "Why don't you go find some acid to dunk you head in before I warp you through that forge I saw in the armoury, ey?"

The shuttle's jaw squared, but Starscream doubted Megatron would be happy to hear of any harm befalling his guests (before he could do it himself, that was).

"Fragging seekers." The shuttle muttered, turning and shouldering back out through the door. It closed behind him, and then Thundercracker was moving to push the wobbly table from the centre of the room to barricade the door.

"What are you doing now?" Starscream snarled, wincing at the screech of chair legs against the floor.

"Keeping us safe through the night." Thundercracker scowled, and let the heavy table bang against the door with one last shove.

"Yes," Starscream smiled sarcastically. "I'm sure that table will stop a Tarnish Warlord and his army of thousands."

"You should have been given more protection." Skywarp mumbled, dropping to the berth sideways and taking up most of the room they needed to be sharing.

"What for?" Starscream joined him, kicking his feet up onto Skywarp's chest, wriggling to get comfortable on the inconsiderately hard berth. "What do the council care what happens to me? So long as I have this brute's sparkling they won't have need of me anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if they arranged for little 'accident' for me, then they'd have themselves a Prince who was both Decepticon _and_ Vosian heir."

He glanced aside at Thundercracker. "They could mould him into their perfect little underling. Someone loyal, someone they know they could control. They won't want me about corrupting all their hard work."

"They'd risk hostilities with Megatron, if they killed you."

Starscream snorted. "Only if he cared."

Thundercracker didn't join them on the berth, sitting himself atop the table he was using as a barricade instead. "Then you should make him care."

 

* * *

 

After a night on an excruciatingly uncomfortable berth what Starscream wanted more than anything was a long, hot shower. Thundercracker and Skywarp moved the table out of the doorway and off they went in search of the nearest wash racks.

With the relative freedom to explore, they found themselves in the East wing of the fortress, where a multitude of repairs were in progress. There was a chill of air coming through a giant hole. As they approached, it looked more like an entire chunk of the uppermost floor had been taken out. Moving towards the edge, Starscream looked down, and saw that the 'chunk' covered several floors down.

It looked like a Titan had gotten into a fist fight with the fortress and won.

"Where are the wash racks?" Skywarp asked one of the construction workers.

The mech shrugged, pointing to the missing section of the building they were looking at. "They used to be there..."

Starscream's mood sunk lower.

"We might as well be living in the _badlands_ ," he hissed, twisting away, "In a _hut_. This place is disgusting and we can't even shower?"

"I'll find you a shower." Thundercracker hurried after him and leant close to his audial to murmur in that infuriatingly soothing voice he used when he thought Starscream was getting upset. He glared at the other construction workers glancing their way as Starscream stormed through the corridor. "But keep your voice down-"

"Why!?" Starscream said. Louder, and louder. "So I don't _offend_ the residents of this fine ruin!? Is this to be our permanent residence? Am I expected _to live here?"_

 

* * *

 

 

Megatron hadn't yet met with the Vosian Prince, but for such a large fortress word travelled quickly. Soldiers had come to him offended, irked that a high caste seeker had presumed to shout orders at them, demanding mocking luxuries like polish and pillows and a cleaning drone and warm solvent -things far from the processors of the accountants working tirelessly to keep his mechs fuelled and the city guarded. What little spare financing they could scrape together was spent on ammunition and propaganda. If the Prince was so offended, perhaps he could donate a sizeable portion of his _own_ wealth to buy pillows.

And if the Prince wasn't careful, one of his more reckless soldiers might be inclined to silence his endless demands themselves.

Megatron was too busy to deal with it himself, hunched over a holographic projection of the minefield the Autobots had planted to block their advance through what remained of Polyhex. He'd already lost two good ground cells to it. He needed those fliers-

"Soundwave," He turned his head and found his lieutenant at his side. "Locate the Vosians and have them returned to quarters before a riot starts. Have mechs you trust guard the door."

Before Soundwave could acknowledge the order they were interrupted by a mild commotion coming up the corridor, a sharp voice demanding someone get out of their way followed by the heavy clattering of armour.

Megatron lifted his head, optics drawn to the glimmer of armour storming past the entrance to his war room. A seeker -silvery white and gleaming against the dark backdrop like a flare of ethereal light- turned as he swept past the door. He was within Megatron's sights for half a second at most, and didn't appear to realise _who_ stood in the room of mechs his ruby optics glanced over. His face was dark and sharp, jaw narrow, features fine. The sort of face designed for stoic portraits, for engraving on planetary currency, not the sort that belonged in the dank halls of Kalkular.

"-said, get out of my way!" He was gone, but Megatron could hear him moving up the corridor. A vocaliser like a grinder filled with steel bolts. Two other darker seekers were rushing after him, one joyfully offering apologies, the other shouldering through those few still standing.

He saw Soundwave watching him out of the corner of his optic.

He re-schooled his features, turning and dropping over the hologram again.

"Go after him." He ordered. "...and see that he's made more comfortable."

"Acknowledged."

 

* * *

 

Starscream couldn't work out if this Soundwave weirdo was a solider of rank or an errand drone. He seemed unnaturally patient and took Starscream's complaints without a flicker of irritation, but most mechs they passed in the hallways turned tail and fled at the very sight of him. Starscream squinted at his back as they walked, searching for clues, wondering what this mech could do and where he had come from, and why it was his job to find three high maintenance aristocratic seekers a place to bathe.

"Solvent facilities are a luxury." Soundwave told them, and Starscream felt fear trickle down his spinal strut that this mech seemed to truly believe that.

He had had his own private wash racks in the palace, cleaned daily by drones, filled with showers and tubs and an oil bath and more. The tiles had been adorned with gold wings, and the floor heated for maximum comfort.

Soundwave led them through what looked like someone's private quarters into an attaching room that _wasn't_ a wash racks, but a tiled space with one very old copper tub sat in it's centre. There was a hose lying across the floor, a puddle of water growing under it.

Presumably it was what filled the tub in place of working taps.

"What." Skywarp said into the silence.

"This will suffice." Soundwave told them, and turned on his heel. Starscream heard the door to the berthroom close shortly after, but he was too busy staring at the tub to bother watching Soundwave walk out.

Thundercracker was the first to recover. He moved further into the room, peered into the tub, and seemingly finding it suitable, lifted the hose from the floor.

"No." Starscream said before he could speak.

Thundercracker folded his arms, hose dripping where it hung from his hand. "You said you felt dirty."

"Nothing in this room will help rectify that." Starscream hissed, standing his ground.

Thundercracker tossed the hose into the tub and moved to twist the water flow on at the wall. As liquid began to fill the tub, Skywarp came forward to dip his hand in. He grimaced, shaking it dry. "It's clean water, but it's cold."

Starscream stamped his pede, wings folding close. " _No._ "

Skywarp sat on the edge of the tub and dipped his pedes in. Starscream heard the throom of his thrusters igniting, and steam began to rise as the water heated.

"This is primitive." Starscream complained, still not convinced enough. "There's no solvent-"

Thundercracker pulled something out of his subspace. A bottle of cleanser. "Just get in the tub, Starscream."

Starscream sullenly crossed the room and climbed over the edge of the tub, stepping into rapidly warming water. Skywarp swung his legs playfully and Thundercracker flicked the cap off the cleanser and dumped half the bottle in. Starscream wanted to snap at him not to be so wasteful, seeing as that bottle looked like it had to last them the rest of their lives here. The gentle soothing fragrance rose from the water and filled his olfactory. Some of the tension melted away as he sunk deeper into the water. He shut his vents but let his armour fluff, letting the warm water seep into seams and douse his aching joints.

He may be in a foreign city state, sharing a fortress that had no working indoor plumping with a rebel insurrection and the an infamous warlord he had never met but was set to conjunx, but at least he had his trine.

And at least they had remembered to bring cleanser.

He began to settle. Skywarp, having now heated the water to perfection, slipped down from the edge to join Starscream in the water, pulling a foot into his lap and rubbing it with a wash cloth. Thundercracker leant over the edge, swirling a digit in the water. The rising steam fogged the glass of his optics. Starscream sighed and sunk a little lower. Letting the water rise up to his chin and shuttering his optics.

The door in the other room creaked open.

Thundercracker's head shot upright as fast as Skywarp's entire body did, sending water splashing over the sides of the tub and all up Starscream's face.

"Hey, occupied!" Skywarp yelled towards the next room, stepping out of the tub and wringing the wash cloth tight as though he planned on using it as a weapon.

But before he reached the open door, their intruder stepped into it, tall, silver, and imposing, shoulders filling the breadth of the doorway. Skywarp stopped short, realising he and his wash cloth were unlikely to stand much of a chance.

Starscream sat up in the tub, and the shift of moving water drew the large mech's attention away from Skywarp and onto himself. Optics, like coal, smouldered, and a face lined with age and battle, softened from annoyance, to confusion. The mech wore a bold purple insignia in the centre of his chest, and a obscenely large cannon on his arm, as though he expected to be set upon by enemies at any given second.

Though considering how Skywarp had just come at him with his wash cloth he wasn't all that incorrect.

"Soundwave brought you here." The mech finally spoke, accent distinctly low-caste, vocaliser staticky and cheap. It was an observation, rather than a question, but Starscream's trine nodded, stuttering and hasty, clearly wondering if that cannon might be used on them.

Seeing as his trine had dissolved into such cowards at the sight of the weapon and were being useless in clearing the intruder off, Starscream realised he'd have to do everything himself.

He stood with a frustrated noise, armour dripping and rapidly chilling in the cool air. "And _you_ are?!"

The mech's shoulder thunked against the doorframe as he leant into it, arms folded over his broad flat chest. His optics tracked down Starscream's wet frame with deliberately slow pace, lingering on the shimmer of his cockpit and the water droplets speckling his turbines.

"Megatron," he said, when his gaze finally reached Starscream's face. "You must be Starscream."

Skywarp and Thundercracker noticeably shifted at the realisation of _whose_ room this was, so Starscream wasn't going to give this Megatron the satisfaction of a reaction from him too.

He placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head. " _Prince_ Starscream. You'd do well to remember that."

Megatron's expression didn't change, it didn't twist in prideful indignation. Skywarp glanced over his shoulder and made panicked faces at him though, the 'you're going to get us killed!' sort of faces.

Megatron took a step back, movements and expressions slow and calculated. "I have clearly interrupted-"

"Obliviously." Starscream gestured to his state, stood cold and dripping in the middle of his bath. "So if you're quite done leering-"

"I would never presume to leer at a prince." Megatron denied, and he sounded... as though he was joking, "I imagine it comes with quite the penalty."

"Death." Starscream agreed.

"Fortunate that we're here then," Megatron inclined his helm, in a mocking attempt at a bow. "And not in your beautiful sky city."

He disappeared around the doorway with one last smug look. They waited until they heard the door shut again, before Starscream dropped back into the bath with dramatic flourish, sending half of it's contents up the sides and splashing over Thundercracker.

Skywarp turned towards them, optics and smile both equally wide. "I thought he was supposed to be ugly?"

"He _was_ ugly." Starscream mumbled, lips just above the water line.

"Are your optics working?"

Starscream splashed him, and was splashed back in return.

 

* * *

 

Soundwave disapproved, Megatron could tell.

"I wanted to catch him off his guard."

Soundwave continued to stare in silent judgment. He hadn't brought Starscream to Megatron's quarters so he could be interrupted halfway through a bath, but Megatron wanted to a chance to know him, the real Starscream. He had less than a week before they were due to conjunx and every moment of his days were filled with meetings and councils and plots. He wanted to see more than just glimpses of Starscream's true personality behind whatever fastidious show he was likely to put on in front of an audience.

And Megatron wouldn't normally have walked in on an 'innocent' seeker mid bath. He had manners, after all. But this one _was_ planning to kill him.

"Starscream is young."

Megatron blinked, turning back to consider his disapproving lieutenant, waiting for him to elaborate, armour crawling as he worried another bombshell was about to be dropped. "He's not _that_ young... is he?"

Soundwave shook his helm. "He has reached majority, but he is young, inexperienced, in a strange place with strange mechs."

"About time the pampered prince had a wake up call then." Megatron growled, studying Soundwave. "You seem to have grown rather fond of him, rather quickly. He is plotting to kill me, you recall?"

Soundwave tilted his head cockily, "Suggestion; don't give him reason to."

 

* * *

 

Now that Starscream knew whose quarters these were it seemed he couldn't resist the chance to snoop. Bath over, and satisfied with his level of cleanliness, Starscream leapt from the bath, vaulting over the edge and splashing water everywhere.

"Starscream," Thundercracker complained, shaking out a towel to dry him off. "You're soaking. You'll ruin the floor-"

 _"What_ floor," Starscream sneered, and continued to roam into the berth room. Skywarp jumped after him, also wet, adding to Thundercracker's stress levels.

Thundercracker followed them into the room. The warlord's berth was a simple slab of metal, no better than theirs had been -likely why they didn't clock that these quarters belonged to him in the first place. Skywarp flopped on top of it, then winced in regret.

"I think this one's _worse_ than ours."

"And now it's soaking." Thundercracker snapped, whipping him with the towel.

There was a scrape as Starscream started opening drawers in the desk.

"Starscream!" He hissed, rushing to the door to keep lookout. "Are you trying to get us executed for espionage?"

"No one would believe a idiot like Skywarp was a spy," Starscream muttered, pulling the next draw out and knocking around inside it. "All he has in here are novels!"

"You check there aren't booby traps?" Skywarp asked him, helm hanging upside-down off the side of the berth. "Remember when you went snooping in the Winglord's desk and he'd put a paint bomb in there?"

Starscream made an unhappy noise, but continued anyway.

"Yeah, except this Megatron guy doesn't seem the type to mess around." Skywarp continued, rolling back into his front and propping his chin up in his hands. "He's not gonna rig his desk with a harmless little _paint_ bomb."

"I heard the Decepticons were making great strives in chemical warfare." Thundercracker said from the door, glaring. "Let's hope the next drawer you open isn't filled with Cosmic Rust."

Starscream paused and glared at them both, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the water still dripping down his armour. He lifted a hand to wipe away a drop from the end of his nose. "You really think the grunts that live here without _indoor plumbing_ are prepared enough to set booby traps?"

"No, we're saying Megatron is." Skywarp smiled.

Starscream left the desk, but not before kicking a leg angrily. "Fine." He huffed. "Give me the towel. We're going back to our room, where it's 'safe'."

"Don't you wanna test out the berth?" Skywarp bounced lightly on it as Thundercracker handed over the towel.

Starscream flung it over his wings. "No."

"I mean you're gonna be spending a lot of time on it, right?" Skywarp swung his legs off and stood to join them. "Or is it your berth _he_ comes to?"

"Do we have to talk about this?" Thundercracker asked grumpily, rubbing Starscream's wings with the towel.

"I just want us to be prepared-" Skywarp began.

"This isn't an 'us' situation though, is it?" Starscream interrupted, shrugging Thundercracker off. "Neither of you are conjunxing the psychopath."

"I know." Skywarp gripped his shoulder tightly, suddenly serious. " _We_ know. And _you_ know that the second you ask me, I'll-" he snapped his digits. "-Warp us the pit out of here and to some spaceport off planet. Or further, if you want."

"A romantic sentiment," Starscream rolled his optics. "But an impossible one. We'd have no friends, no home, no place to get fuel."

"I'll find a job." Skywarp smiled. He nudged Thundercracker.

"...Ditto." Thundercracker agreed after a slight delay. "We would make it work, if you did want to leave."

"Leaving is the cowards way out." Starscream swung the towel from his wings and wrapped it around his trim waist. "This is simply... an opportunity."

"Only if things go the way you want." Thundercracker mumbled, following.

 


	3. Kaonite Summer

Kaon had a warmer climate than Vos, and it had little to do with the weather.

Heat rose from the thousands of mines and furnaces and mechs below the surface, and in such a cramped, overpopulated city, it was easily trapped. The air lingered, thick and heavy and _sticky_. Even the great fortress of Kolkular couldn't reach high enough into the sky to escape it.

Starscream was neither used to nor _designed_ for the heat. He was built compactly and well insulated to endure the below freezing temperatures of the upper atmosphere and the high winds that came with it. As such, Seekers had limited options for keeping themselves cool. For Starscream, opening his vents and spreading his limbs to maximise heat loss and letting his turbines spin languidly to drag a breeze across his chest could only do so much.

It was unbearable.

He rose from the berth. Wings free, they lifted and stretched out backwards to fan softly. "I've visited _stars_ cooler than this."

Lying face down on the marginally cooler decking, Skywarp flicked his wings in agreement.

"Staying in this stuffy room isn't doing us any favours." Thundercracker said.

Starscream glared at him.

Thundercracker wasn't being 'quite so dramatic' about the heat. His words. He was leaning across the desk with his optics offline, fanning himself with a datapad. He looked majestically flushed and composed anyway. Starscream wanted to push him into one of the forges down below.

"Mmmphhh," Skywarp said from the floor, still face down.

"What?"

"He said, it's too hot to move." Starscream answered. He'd actually had no idea what Skywarp had been trying to say, but it was his opinion on the matter anyway.

Skywarp managed to turn his head to the side, "No, I said, good idea."

Starscream's mood sunk further. He had no plans to wander about the fortress in such a stuffy, overheated state. What if they came across Megatron again? And he saw him like _this_? Armour fluffed and turbines spinning?

"Fine. Go without me."

"C'mon," Thundercracker hopped off the desk, tossing the datapad away. "There's gotta be some coolant around here somewhere."

"Bring some back for me."

"We're not leaving you here alone." Thundercracker folded his arms across his chest, wings waving behind him to act as a fan. "Not in a room that doesn't _lock_."

Starscream resented the implication that he wouldn't be able to handle himself without his trine, but with his recent stroke of luck, it was probably best not to risk anything. The looks, dirty and appreciative alike, had been plentiful yesterday when they'd explored the fortress.

He followed Thundercracker and Skywarp out of the room, just to save himself an argument with them that would do little but make him even more flustered and hot.

Stepping into the hallway felt like being blasted in the face with someone else's thrusters. He groaned and stepped behind Skywarp to catch the breeze from his wings. Skywarp felt him move close and nudged him away with his shoulder, hissing resentfully at the huff of warm air expelled across his back from Starscream's own vents.

"I'm hot!" Starscream snapped.

"So am I!" Skywarp growled back, slapping Starscream away again. "Stop breathing on me!"

Thundercracker was wise enough to keep a distance from them. Walking fast wouldn't do anything to help him keep cool, but neither would getting into a slap fight with his trine-mates.

Starscream knew he and Skywarp pushing and shoving and trying to trip one another up was attracting more attention than Thundercracker would have liked as they moved through the dark corridors, looking for staircases and elevators to ride down to find the dinning hall, but he was frustrated and uncomfortable and it was all coming out of him in a petty need to make someone _else_ just as miserable as he was.

"Cut it out!" Thundercracker finally snapped and turned on them halfway down the stairs, after Skywarp had turned to shove Starscream only to be shoved himself first. His arms pinwheeled for balance, and if Thundercracker hadn't been behind to catch him, he might have rolled down six floors worth of stairs.

Starscream didn't like Thundercracker's tone. It sounded too much like a frustrated parent. "He started-"

"I don't care who started it." Thundercracker growled over the beginnings of Skywarp's protest, nudging him down the steps to split him and Starscream up. "You're not the only one who is hot and miserable here, Starscream!"

Starscream opened his mouth to argue back that he _was_ the only one that was being forced into lifelong imprisonment as Warlord's conjunx though, when he heard shifting armour on the stairs below.

All three of them stopped and stepped sideways to lean over the railing.

The stoic visor of Soundwave stared back at them from a floor below.

"Query; problem?"

"No," Thundercracker immediately tried to brush him off. "We were just-"

"Dying of heat stroke!" Starscream leant further over the railing to snap over Thundercracker polite reassurances. "Is this how the great Decepticon fraction treats their guests? Royalty no less? Letting us boil in our own armour? Has anyone in this city ever even _heard_ of an air conditioner?"

"Starscream," Thundercracker growled quietly.

Starscream thrust a hand in his face and continued. "Not to mention proper ventilation. I haven't seen a _window_ in days, let alone breathed fresh air! This whole place stinks of exhaust!"

Soundwave stared back silently. Thundercracker and Skywarp shifted uncomfortably.

"Further complaints?" Soundwave finally asked.

Starscream straightened back up appropriately, recollecting his regal dignity. "...Not right now."

Because he was sure there would be later.

"Good." Soundwave dipped him helm. "Follow me."

Soundwave began down the steps he had just climbed. After a moments hesitation, Starscream shouldered past his trine and began following.

"Nice one, Screamer." Skywarp muttered, "He's probably leading us to the torture chambers."

"Negative." Said Soundwave, apparently still in hearing distance. Skywarp paled considerably and didn't speak again, falling back to walk with Thundercracker and keep his distance.

Soundwave didn't lead them to the torture chambers, but to the 'Mess Hall'. It appeared there was only one place to get fuel in the fortress, and it was of a communal self-serve variety.

Soundwave stood to one side of the door, extending an arm in invitation. Starscream could hear the ruckus before he'd even reached the doorway, and from the jeering and noise coming from within, he didn't have particularly high hopes.

He poked a head around and was greeted with exactly what he had expected. A scattering of mismatched metal tables and chairs, all of which strained with energon. Sat at them were dozens of huge, boisterous mechs sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as they clacked cubes in toasts and told raunchy jokes and displayed a distinct lack of table manners.

There was a bang and sudden surge of jeers when a fight broke out towards the back of the mess. Tables scraped across the floor as others rushed in to either break it up and join in.

Starscream stepped out of view, tank knotting.

"Excuse me." Soundwave said, stepped into the mess, off to deal with the fight. The excited jeering was quickly joined by panicked yelps and scrambling footsteps.

"So are we getting coolant or not?" Skywarp asked, passing Starscream and looking into the Mess himself. His face brightened. "Cool!"

Starscream grabbed his wing before he could rush in and get himself _crushed_. "We're not going in there! It's disgusting."

"It's like something out of the gladiator pits!"

Starscream pulled a face. If they'd been going into a gladiator pit, at least they would have been armed.

"We'll get the coolant. You stay out here." Thundercracker decided, taking a look for himself. "Soundwave's breaking things up anyway, and we won't be long-"

Starscream tutted, "I think I can be left unsupervised for _five minutes_ , Thundercracker."

Thundercracker didn't have a polite response to that it seemed, because he followed Skywarp into the mess without a word. Starscream peaked around the doorway to watch them struggle to find a safe route to the dispensers at the other end of the hall. They'd be lucky not to be taken out by a flying table.

Starscream leant back against the wall and fanned himself lightly with his hand, glancing up and down the plain humid corridor. Did nowhere in this fortress have a window? A balcony? Anything?

Down the end of the corridor there was a scrape of metal as an old elevator arrived on the floor. Starscream straightened up and brought his wings forward to make himself appear broad and imposing.

The elevator opened and a pair of familiar shoulders turned to get through the narrow doorway. Starscream's spark pulse sped up. Megatron.

The warlord took two long strides towards the Mess before spotting him and coming to an abrupt stop, genuine surprise flickering across his face. Starscream stood even straighter, sticking his chest out and lifting his nose high. His turbines span faster when a flush overcame him. He folded his arms across his chest to hide them.

"I was told there was a fight." Megatron continued his approach at a slower pace now. Cautious and calculating. "I should have known you would be behind it."

Warmth from further embarrassment did nothing to help Starscream's over-heated disposition. He was sure his cheeks were purple. He thrust a defensive arm towards the mess. " _That_ had nothing to do with me!"

Megatron lifted a pacifying hand, smirk small and well hidden, "Do you have jokes in Vos?"

"No!" Starscream snapped before thinking, then felt his cheeks _glow_. He turned his face to the side, hoping Megatron wouldn't look too closely. "Our jokes are funny." He amended.

Megatron grunted, though it may have been a noise of amusement. "If you're looking for fuel, you might be more successful inside."

"My trine are collecting coolant for me." Starscream sniffed.

"Your trine are your servants?" Megatron looked interested.

Starscream rolled his optics. "My trine are my _trine_."

Megatron peered in through the doorway, towards the brawl that was continuing in earnest. He didn't seem too concerned over it, or the destruction of his property as it raged on. "It seems they might be a while."

"Because your mechs are trying to kill each other."

"Nothing wrong with letting off a little steam."

Starscream disagreed. Were these _his_ underlings, he would have whipped them into shape. It was disgraceful to think of these thugs as warriors. The Vosian guard Starscream had grown up with would never have behaved in such a manner.

"A refuelling without at least three grievous injuries is considered a slow day." Megatron said casually.

"And you're proud that, aren't you?"

Megatron considered him, and Starscream didn't like the way those dark optics looked through him. They were too thoughtful, too reflective, for a barbaric pit-dweller.

"Most of these warriors were once sworn enemies, killing one another in the fighting pits for whatever drabs of unfiltered fuel they could get. All for the amusement of _civilised mechs_ like yourself. Now? Now they have a _purpose_. They're fighting for something."

"It looks to me like they're still fighting each other for fuel."

"Old habits are hard to break." Megatron shrugged, looking back towards the ongoing fight. "As is evidenced in yourself."

Starscream decided to pretend not to know what he meant. He huffed.

Megatron shifted closer, and the air stirred besides Starscream's left wing. He was suddenly acutely aware of Megatron; of the great mech's engines, his vents, his _height_.

"You're a long way from home." Megatron spoke again, seemingly apropos of nothing.

Starscream wanted to say a sarcastic 'no kidding', but Megatron continued before he could gather the courage. "So I've taken the liberty of inviting more of your brethren to join you, at least until you are more settled into your duties here."

Starscream blinked at him, a slow dawning sense of dread building in his spark. "My...?"

"From the palace." Megatron elaborated, oblivious to how damming such a move was. "Your advisors. They seemed keen to help you prepare."

The ' _Winglord's_ advisors' was what Megatron meant. The very traitors that had orchestrated his coming here in the first place. His enemies. Perhaps Megatron was a greater manipulator than he had been letting on...

There would be no plots, no schemes, with them around to out manoeuvre him. They'd want  the week leading up to the bonding to go as smoothly as possible. They'd ensure everything was just right.

They'd ensure Thundercracker and Skywarp were as far removed from him as possible.

"Wonderful." his mouth twisted upwards at the corners. "How very _kind_ of you."

Although clearly an idiot, Megatron could recognise sarcasm at least. He frowned, as though concerned- but a chair flew across the Mess and hit the doorframe close to them before he could speak. His head turned into the room, gaze darkening.

"One moment-" he gestured for Starscream to stay put, sweeping into the Mess. The shouting of brawlers quickly became _squeals_.

Starscream waited until he'd disappeared far into the fray before turning and fleeing for the stairs.

Forget waiting for the coolant. He could deal with the heat far better than he could Megatron's company.

 

* * *

 

Thundercracker and Skywarp found him back in the room some time later, falling through the door panting and wheezing, armour pinging with heat.

They'd assumed the worst when they'd finally fought free of the Mess and found him missing, thinking someone had picked him up and carried him off like some unattended prize. Starscream's dismal mood worsened at the idea that he could have so easily been taken by any idiot roaming the halls.

"Here's your coolant." Thundercracker grumbled, dropping it at the end of the berth. "And we heard the news."

Starscream glanced sideways at him. "From who?"

"Megatron."

Starscream sat up with a jolt. "You spoke with him?"

"So did you," Skywarp cut in defensively, "Besides, we didn't know where you were. If someone really had spirited you off, we thought he might have something to say about it. Since you're his conjunx, n' all."

"Intended conjunx." Starscream corrected.

"He said you ran away from him."

"I did not 'run away' from him!" Starscream slammed his fist against the berth. "He left to deal with his thugs and expected me to wait for him. I'm not some underling he can order around."

Skywarp dropped to the floor by the berth. "Not yet anyway."

Starscream glared.

"So, some of the palace advisors are coming." Thundercracker said to get them back on track. "It's not the end of the world. I don't think we need to worry too much-"

"Don't _need to worry_?!" Starscream exclaimed. "They sent us here in the first place!"

"But 'here' isn't the palace. It isn't even Vos." Thundercracker pointed out. "They won't have guards to push us around or medics to threaten you with."

"Well they're certainly not coming here to make this any _easier_ for me, Thundercracker!" Starscream growled.

"Megatron wouldn't have invited them to make this harder for you-"

"And how do you know that? They're in cahoots, you know." Starscream pulled a face. "Him and the council."

"I don't think so." Skywarp joined in. "I think Megatron likes you more than he likes them."

"He doesn't know me." Starscream ignored the warm feeling in his tank again.

"He knows what your aft looks like though."

"Warp." Thundercracker snapped.

"Face it. He thinks you're pretty, Screamer," Skywarp continued playfully, ducking the swing made for his head. "He wants you."

"Doesn't everyone." Starscream growled, unmoved.

 

* * *

 

The Vosian entourage didn't take long to arrive. Kaon was thankfully cooler the next morning at dawn, before the forges were lit and the fumes started pumping out of the ground.

Starscream was up and awaiting their inevitable arrival, half hidden behind one of the monitor screens in the command centre he definitely wasn't supposed to have entry to. It offered the best view of the elevator shaft where the advisors would be coming through. Thundercracker and Skywarp stood waiting to greet them, and would then stall them as Starscream decided how best to deal with whoever had been chosen for the task of ruining the crown prince's already terrible week.

The elevator panel lit up to show it had arrived. The doors opened and Thundercracker and Skywarp stepped back to reveal three seekers Starscream knew well.

Cloud Tread, head of the Vosian Morality Council, and his two snivelling, sycophantic trine-mates; the Assistant Foreign Secretary, and the Royal Palace's Religious Advisor.

Starscream ducked back behind the monitor bank, biting his lip. He should have known. He should have known the council would send _them_ ; a prude, snob, and a zealot.

 _How long are they staying?_ He sent a private comm to Thundercracker, peaking over the top of the monitor to see them all still speaking. Cloud Tread had an unpleasant sneer on his face. Skywarp was mimicking it behind his back. 

 _As long as necessary, he says_ , Thundercracker responded regretfully. _I think they want to stay after the bonding to enforce the councils wishes._

Starscream swallowed thickly. The 'councils wishes' were that he bore Megatron an heir.

 _We'll have plenty of time to plan little accidents for the three of them then_ , Starscream responded, mustering his confidence. _That's if I can't implore Megatron to do it for me._

From a distance, he saw Thundercracker's mouth twitch. An almost smile. _I wouldn't be surprised. He does think you're 'pretty'._

Starscream's spark fluttered, because he was almost starting to hope that maybe Megatron did.

 

* * *

 

He couldn't stay hidden for long. Cloud Tread was stubborn, arrogant, and impatient, and hadn't 'come here to be small-talked into deactivation by the Prince's simpleton trine'. Thundercracker had thankfully grabbed Skywarp's wrist before he could raise it to punch Cloud Tread in the back of his boring, unembellished helm.

"You've a lot of nerve calling _my_ trine simpletons." Starscream said by way of greeting, slipping out of the shadows simply to save his trine from the audacity of suffering such basic company. "I'm surprised the three of you even knew where Kaon was."

Cloud Tread responded with little more than a distasteful look. It was what Starscream hated most about him. Most idiots talked themselves into losing arguments and looking stupid, but Cloud Tread wasn't going to 'lower himself to those standards'. It made mocking him wholly unsatisfying. Like insulting a brick wall.

"You're looking better than we expected, your highness." Cloud Tread's golden-brown trine mate, the religious advisor whose name Starscream couldn't actually remember because he didn't _care_ about it, then pipped up. "Kaon suits you more than you realise."

Starscream's optic twitched. "Thank you."

"There's a lot of preparation to do in a short amount of time." Cloud Tread continued, looking Starscream up and down. "This is a union of great importance to the Winglord, and no attempts at you thwarting that will be tolerated, understood?"

Starscream wanted to roll his optics out of the back of his head. "Cloud Tread, you _wound_ me. When have you ever known me to cause trouble?"

Cloud Tread arched a brow. "We'll have to hope Lord Megatron can curb that sass of yours after conjunxing. Though from how successful his war campaign has been, I'm sure he can more than handle the likes of you."

Starscream made a noise of disgust. Over Cloud Tread's shoulder his ugly trine looked smug and conceited.

"We'll be meeting with Lord Megatron this morning, and this afternoon will be spent assessing your living standards. We've heard a concerning rumour that you've been sharing your berth with your trine." Cloud Tread's optics passed over Thundercracker and Skywarp judgmentally.

Starscream heard them shift behind him, clearly on edge at the idea of being separated from him. "It's for my protection to have them close."

"You won't need their _protection_." Cloud Tread sneered the word like he thought it implied something else. "We'll also be taking you to the medic-"

Oh, not _again_.

"Why?" Starscream seethed.

"To ensure everything is as it should be." The religious advisor piped up again. "We can't have used goods besmirching the palace's reputation-"

" _Used goods_?" Skywarp surged forwards angrily. Thundercracker held him back. "He's not your property-!"

"No, but as a conjunx, he's to be Lord Megatron's soon enough."

"You fragging-!"

"Enough Skywarp." Starscream murmured back to him. "The medics at the palace already _checked_ my seals."

"It's far better to be safe than sorry when it comes to you." Cloud Tread continued. "And that won't be the only examination taking place. You're no good to anyone if you can't produce an heir."

Starscream started fantasying about driving a screwdriver into his own gut just to make all the council's hard work for nothing. "Did you bring a medic?"

"I'm sure the one's here will suffice." Cloud Tread nodded, moving to leave. "We will speak more on this later, after we have confirmed our conditions with your betrothed."

Cloud Tread shouldered past, his glistening, fashion-impaired trine following. Thundercracker and Skywarp watched them go, both tense and on high alert.

"We need to bribe the medics before they get to them." Skywarp muttered, "How many are there?"

"A lot." Thundercracker's wings drooped. "It's a big faction. And we don't have all that many credits left."

Starscream folded his arms, doing his best to ignore the growing worry. "...I can offer more than just credits."

Skywarp turned to him slowly, catching on quickly. "...It's not worth it-"

"It's no different than what I'm going to let Megatron do-"

"Starscream, that's nuts!" Thundercracker protested. "The _difference_ is someone finding out! Not having seals is one thing, being caught clanging another _Decepticon_ -!"

"I'll do it." Skywarp jumped in. "I don't mind-"

"I do!" Thundercracker snapped.

"Fine!" Starscream hissed. "It was a stupid suggestion. _You two_ figure it out. Preferably before Cloud Tread has me dragged down to medical and exposed as a slut for all the back-alley medics to see!"

He stormed off, leaving an obviously distressed Thundercracker and Skywarp in his wake.

 


	4. Not In This For The Credits

Starscream watched the construction worker install the lock into his door. He knew Cloud Tread only insisted on one being added to better control him, to restrict his freedom, but Starscream appreciated that it could also be used to keep unwanted visitors _out_. Sadly, it was a high security system, one that unlocked via spark signature, not a pin code. It had so far been programmed to allow only three mechs access.

Himself, Cloud Tread, and... _Megatron_.

Which meant there'd be no more sleepovers for Thundercracker and Skywarp. Exactly what Cloud Tread had intended. 

Still, with a couple of tools and a few hours undisturbed freedom, Starscream was sure he could do a few modifications to the new security system. 

Cloud Tread inspected the lock and gave the work a nod of firm satisfaction. "That should keep you out of trouble." He said, like Starscream was some sort of juvenile delinquent prone to staying out past curfew.

"It should keep me _safe_ , you mean." Starscream corrected.

"Yes, of course." Cloud Tread said absently. "That too. Now, you'll be pleased to hear Megatron had his lieutenants move some accommodations around and they were able to find sufficient rooms for your trine."

Starscream wasn't pleased to hear that. He was even less happy at the thought of his 'betrothed' agreeing with the decision to have him removed from his trine, his only support system, just as much as the cruel council did.

He hadn't spoken to them since the Cloud Tread had arrived. He could only hope they'd managed to slip through the clutches of the 'Snob' and the 'Zealot' long enough to solve his medical examination problem. Speaking of which-

"Come along now, you have your exam."

Fear gripped Starscream's spark. "Now? Is your chrono malfunctioning or has age corrupted your memory files? You _said_ this _afternoon_ -"

"I did say that, didn't i?" Cloud Tread looked smug and proud, already striding purposefully up the corridor. "And leaving it so late in the cycle would have given you and your degenerate little trine plenty of time to prepare a deception, wouldn't it?"

Starscream didn't move to follow.

Cloud Tread didn't stop to wait for him, calling over his shoulder, "You can come willingly, or I can request a guard escort from your intended?"

Starscream thought about resisting, of being surrounded then mech-handled down to medical anyway, of being strapped down to the medberth and subjected to whatever examination happened to cross Cloud Tread's sadistic processor.

"There's no need for that." Starscream forced a smile and hurried to fall into place beside him. "Contrary to your beliefs, I've nothing to hide.

 

* * *

 

Decepticon medics were busy mechs. Granted, they were at war, but their warriors also had a habit of beating one another to scrap over anything from fuel-rations to 'dirty looks'. The medical floor of the fortress was packed.

Cloud Tread obnoxiously shoved through the crowded halls filled with maimed Decepticons, looking for a suitable medic. Starscream kept his wings low as he was forced to follow him through the path of waiting patients who didn't appear to appreciate them cutting in line ahead of them.

Starscream was so busy keeping his limbs attached and his frame unmolested from the hulking crowd of leering warriors that he hadn't noticed Cloud Tread find his 'suitable' medic until a hand shot out and grabbed the edge of his wing to pull him in. The _sensitive_ edge.

Starscream hissed and swiped at him, much to Cloud Tread's disgust.

"More like a feral glitch-tiger than a Vosian Prince," he glared, giving him a brief shake before releasing and turning back to the medic. "You may need to check him for corrupt coding as well."

Starscream could see why Cloud Tread had chosen this medic. He was young, handsome, and well kept. A stark juxtaposition to the other Decepticons and medics filling the corridor. His glossy red paint shimmered in the dim lighting, and his face was angular and smooth. The sort of face Starscream once wouldn't have minded looking at, had his circumstances not been so drastically changed. The mech may have even been high-caste.

"I had heard there were Vosians in the fortress." The medic spoke, a smirk spreading across his face. His voice was smooth and honeyed, but the accent threw Starscream. It wasn't high-caste. It wasn't even Cybertronian. A colony mech, perhaps.

"Lord Megatron's soon to be conjunx, Prince Starscream." Cloud Tread elaborated hauntingly. "You will see to us immediately."

The medic arched a brow at the demand, but stepped into his examination room to allow them entrance. He even dipped his head in deference. "Your highness."

Begrudgingly, Starscream stepped inside.

Cloud Tread made to follow, but a red arm shot out and blocked him.

"Doctor-patient confidentially." The medic smiled.

Cloud Tread's normally stoic face did a series of interesting manoeuvres. "I cannot allow the prince to be unchaperoned."

"Are you his trine?" The medic asked.

"He's not." Starscream called across before Cloud Tread could open his mouth and spout lies.

The medic blocked the doorway with his entire frame now, shrugging with faux sympathy. "Next of kin only."

Cloud Tread's wings began to spread out behind him. An obvious attempt at making himself look larger. "Lord Megatron will-"

"-be happy to come down here himself?" The medic interrupted, lifting his comm threateningly. "He's a busy mech, but I'm sure he won't mind putting everything on hold just to come down here and sort this out."

Cloud Tread did not look happy. "...You will forward me a brief of your findings."

"I don't hand out sensitive information regarding fellow Decepticons. Not to _outsiders_." The medic contradicted.

And that was the end of the argument, because the medic shut and sealed the door in Cloud Tread's face.

Starscream would have thoroughly enjoyed this situation had he not known Cloud Tread was only going to take everything out on him later. Still, he should be grateful for the medic. The only thing worse than being poked and prodded and _judged_ would be to have Cloud Tread watching the whole thing over the medic's shoulder.

"...I'm not a Decepticon." He said, remembering what the medic had said. 

"You will be." The medic shrugged, gesturing him over to the medberth. It wasn't high-tech or nicely designed, just a slab of metal with in built restraints. It looked like a torture table.

Hesitantly, he sat down.

The medic was at his desk, flicking through datafiles. There weren't as many as Starscream would have assumed, given how many patients there were here.

"He palace hasn't seen fit to forward your medical files, your highness." He said.

Starscream wasn't surprised. "They're not interested in my health." He tilted his head to the door Cloud Tread was likely trying to eavesdrop through. "They just want to be sure I can carry an heir."

The medic nodded, abandoning the files and picking up a plain datapad as he approached the berth. He held a pen poised above it like he was about to conduct an interview. It was a far cry from the sort of treatment Starscream was used to at the palace. Normally he was expected to lie back, shut up, and let them figure out if there was a problem for themselves.

"Have you carried before?" He asked.

Starscream snorted. "Of course not!"

A brow rose, something was crossed off the datapad. Starscream lifted his chin to try and see, but the medic smugly held it at a higher angle. Jerk.

"Are you sealed?"

Starscream stumbled over the answer. "I...Yes."

The medic paused before crossing it off. His optics flicked past the datapad to Starscream. "...Are you lying?"

"No!"

"Patient-doctor confidentiality?" The medic pressed lightly, twirling the light-pen.

"My trine have credits." Starscream glared, sensing this medic wasn't easily fooled. "I will send them to you later, when I can. They can pay you-"

"Pay me to falsify medical records?"

"To tell _him_ I'm sealed." Starscream thrust a digit to the door. "And Megatron, if the subject comes up."

The medic lowered the datapad. He looked tired, too tired for a young mech. "It's no one's buisness but yours where your seal went. And mine of course."

Starscream grumbled and sat back.

"When did you lose your seal?" The medic continued.

"...A few days ago."

The medic didn't comment. "And how has everything been? Any discomfort? Tenderness? Itching?"

"No."

"How has interfacing felt since?"

Starscream felt incredibly stupid, having to answer. "I haven't."

The medic looked up, "Haven't?"

"Interfaced."

"Just the once then."

Starscream's embarrassment doubled. " _No,_ " he said, frustrated. "I- I didn't lose my seals through interfacing. My trine... they..."

He held up his hand, wriggling his first two fingers to pantomime how Skywarp and Thundercracker had actually broken his seal. It all felt immature and ridiculous now, having his trine break it out of simple spite. A big 'frag you' to the council, an even bigger one to Megatron. 

The medic didn't judge him, but he scribbled something down. "That changes things."

"These are all very personal questions!" Starscream snapped, embarrassment morphing into frustration. His cheeks felt warm. "Are they really necessary?!"

"I could skip the questions and stick my fingers up your valve?" The medic offered, "If that would feel less 'personal' to you?"

It's what the medics at the palace had always done, Starscream wanted to say.

"I expect you'll be interfacing with our lord and leader in a few days time, to do that... consummating- _thing_ you Vosians like doing." The medic continued calmly, as though the outburst hadn't happened. "So I'd suggest telling him then that you aren't sealed. He'll need to be gentle-"

"What are you talking about?" Starscream snapped, "I had my seals broken so it _wouldn't_ be painful."

"That's a common misconception. Breaking the seal isn't what can make a first interface painful. It's actually designed to help ease you into the new experience."

That's not what Starscream had been raised to believe. He'd been taught the seal and the pain of breaking it was a deterrent, to prevent promiscuous young mechs from succumbing to inappropriate urges.

The look on his face must have implored the medic to explain.

"Seals are covered in sensors. When a spike enters the valve for the first time those sensors transmit information to the rest of your array that encourage your callipers to loosen, and lubricant production to increase. There is a 'pinch' when the seal breaks, but it's not a lingering sensation. Not if it's done correctly."

Starscream remembered feeling the pinch in question, and Skywarp's voice warm in his audial, reassuring him that it was gone. Done. That he didn't have to worry about it.

"If that's true, why do so many say it hurts?"

"Misinformation." The medic shrugged, "It can still hurt if a bot isn't properly prepared, is taken roughly, or has an underlying medical condition."

Starscream felt miserable. It must have shown because the medic sighed, leaning conspiratorially close. 

"I know a guy," he said, "A surgeon. Knows how to replace seals for those that need it. Or want it. He can make it so no one would ever know it had been taken."

There was a medic at the palace that could and did perform the same surgery. Though not because their patient wanted or needed it.

"No," Starscream lifted his chin proudly, resolve hardening, "My trine took my seals. Let it be the one part of me the palace can't give away. I'll just have to make do without it."

The medic looked like he was barely restraining an optic roll. "As you wish, your highness. But, just in case-"

He went to his desk again and rummaged around in a draw. He came back with a tube and handed it over. It read 'artificial lubricant.'

Starscream held it between his thumb and forefinger, blinking rapidly. "...What?"

"Use it." The medic ordered, "You'll need it. And make sure you are properly prepared before penetration."

Starscream thought about having to get a tube of lubricant out in front of Megatron. Their first night together was already likely to be unbearable. He could really do without having to substitute in artificial lubricant like he was some dried up old mech like- _like Cloud Tread_!

"I'm not-"

"Keep it." The medic refused to take it back. "And use it. I'll know if you haven't."

"How?" Starscream sneered.

"Because you'll be back here the next morning with a nasty limp and a cooling pack wedged between your thighs. That's how." The medic huffed in amusement. "And you wouldn't be the first either."

Starscream didn't like this medic. He was being _far_  too familiar. "What's your designation?"

"Knock Out." The medic flashed him a charmingly snobbish smile.

"I'll remember that," Starscream said threateningly.

"I'm hard to forget." Knock Out winked, ignoring his dangerous undertone. "And as your primary physician-"

Starscream snorted a laugh at his arrogance. " _Primary physician_? Says who?"

"Says me." Knock Out folded his glossy arms across his chest. "Unless you want to retell your incredibly limited interfacing history to the guy next door? His name's Bonecrusher. He's just an assistant-in-training but I'm sure he'll be great help getting you through the conception and carrying of this heir they want you to carry. As you can imagine, with a name like Bonecrusher, he's got a _great_ beside manner."

Starscream bit down and worried at the meshy inside of his cheek. "You've made your point."

"Good. Now lie back-"

"You said you _weren't_ going to stick your fingers up my valve."

"Not unless you want me to." Knock Out sighed. "We need to check your gestation systems. Make sure it's all in working order. And depending on how much you really want an heir, we can put you on some boosters."

"Boosters?"

"Increase fertility." Knock Out explained. "Or... decrease fertility? If his highness would rather wait?"

"They want the heir as soon as possible."

"And how soon do _you_ want the heir?"

Starscream swallowed the lump in his throat. "I want the sparkling. Just I need time."

Knock Out tapped the edge of the medberth, "I can put you on contraceptives. Install some baffles?"

With Cloud Tread snooping around, that was far too dangerous. Starscream shook his head. There was plenty he could do to decrease the chances of conceiving that didn't involve taking such blatant risks. And it was unlikely Megatron would manage to spark him during their first nights together.

(Unless those rumours of Tarnish virility he had been teased about at the palace turned out to be true)

"I'd appreciate whatever inconspicuous treatment you can offer that will prevent the immediate appearance of a new-spark."

"Of course, your highness." Knock Out agreed graciously, looking like he had a few ideas. "They won't suspect a thing."

 

* * *

 

Starscream disliked Knock Out, but something about the mech told him he could be trusted. He was neither as prudish and stuck up as the Vosians from the palace, nor as rough and uncouth or poorly polished as the other Decepticons. He didn't seem to fit in, and since neither did Starscream, he could see a camaraderie forming between them.

The hour long examination finally ended with Knock Out taking his internal temperature, slipping the thermometer between the fan blades of his turbines.

" _Ow!_ "

"That didn't hurt."

"I'll have you know these are _sensitive_ ," Starscream hissed, rubbing at the turbine. The thermometer had jabbed something delicate behind it. "I can tell you've never worked on a seeker before."

"I have." Knock Out contradicted, checking the temperature before flicking it to reset the device. "But if you're really so delicate I'll be sure to stick this somewhere less sensitive next time. Your aft port, maybe."

Starscream darkened his optics. "It would be the last thing you _ever_ did."

"Forgive me, your highness." Knock Out didn't sound particularly repentant. "I meant no offence."

Starscream swung his legs off the medberth, knowing he now had to face the non-confidential world beyond the medic's exam room. " _He's_ going to want to know what you found."

Knock Out glanced towards the door. "I'll tell him I've already forwarded the information on to Megatron."

"He doesn't care about Megatron." Starscream muttered, brushing nonexistent dust from the medberth off his back. "He wants to report back to the palace. The more he humiliates me, the better the promotion he'll be offered."

Knock Out stroked his narrow chin. "Perhaps I can falsify some medical records after all."

Starscream's spark lifted. "Like I said, my trine-"

"I'm not in this for the credits." Knock Out waved him down.

"Then what _do_ you want?" Starscream narrowed his optics, because everyone wanted something.

Knock Out shrugged, "I'm sure I'll think of something. In the meantime, the conjunx of the high commander's not a bad mech to have owing me a favour."

" _Future_ conjunx." Starscream muttered.

Knock Out only smiled. It seemed he was far more optimistic about the importance and power of that role than Starscream was.

 

* * *

 

Megatron had always resented the high caste for their decadence and arrogance and apathy. The royal palace of Vos, with it's traditions and greed and exclusivity, had always been one of the higher caste's greatest pillars of power, upholding that status quo. Simply living in such opulence when there were mechs starving in the streets should be considered a crime.

One day, Megatron would tear down it's walls and let the tall spires themselves crush it's occupants.

And yet, he had since met Starscream. Rude, arrogant, greedy, and beautiful, the very definition of everything Megatron was fighting against; but charming and clever and dangerous in ways that should have made him wary, but didn't. There was more to Starscream than his titles and his former home. Than the luxury polish he wore, and the trine he spent every waking hour bossing around.

And there was something about the way the little prince looked at him, something had made Megatron  want to look past the resentment and stereotypes and know him as something more than just the Prince of Vos. 

But _then_ Megatron had met Cloud Tread and his trine, and sometimes reality exceeded the rumours. Just when he thought he couldn't hate the palace anymore he had to suffer it's representatives coming into his fortress to tell him how to ' _handle_ his intended'.

"You'll keep an optic on them." Megatron asked Soundwave, again, just to be sure his lieutenant understood that it was a priority without him having to openly admit to prioritising a personal matter over a professional one.

"Affirmative." Soundwave agreed, _again_ , without making comment on it. "This raises the question; why invite outsiders who only serve as distractions."

"I meant for them to be distractions for _him_ ," Megatron snapped. " _Starscream_. You implied-"

"Soundwave; implied nothing."

Megatron glared, "You _suggested_ offering Starscream further support. I invited support."

"And now you distrust them."

Megatron scratched his chin, thinking. The seekers that had been sent from Vos quite obviously took their jobs seriously. That he could appreciate. But he got the distinct impression that they cared more for rules and regulations and tradition, than they did for Starscream himself. There had been no asking after him, no 'how is he settling in?', 'how has he found the climate?', 'how are you getting along?'.

Only, 'he must secured in a private room', and 'he must have a medical examination immediately'.

Megatron recalled asking, instinctively, if this was what _Starscream_ wanted, and being met with scorn and condescension and "You need not concern yourself with Starscream's wellbeing, my lord."

But he was. He was concerned. Starscream was _his_ guest. _His_ responsibility. _His_ conjunx.

He stood, chair scrapping, "I want to see him."

Soundwave rose slowly. "The Vosians will need to be informed. They have requested no unauthorised visitation between yourself and Prince Starscream until after the conjunxing."

Megatron blinked. "...I'm not _permitted_ to see my own conjunx?"

"Conjunx-to-be." Soundwave reminded him.

"And if the Vosians don't allow me to see my betrothed in my own fortress, what then?"

Soundwave tilted his helm. "Unnecessary hostilities. What the Vosians do not know; cannot hurt them."

Megatron squared his shoulders, "Good. Come with me. I'll need a lookout."

 

 


	5. Unprincely Behaviour

  
Starscream hadn't had plans to sneak out of his room and go exploring the Decepticon fortress (Primus knew what sort of psychopaths lived here) but Cloud Tread had taken it upon himself to station his trine outside the door to prevent him from doing such a thing anyway. Once again Starscream found himself imprisoned in his own room, under a curfew set by mechs that had no right to police him or his actions. It was just like being back at the palace. Only... _dirtier_. 

He supposed this was Cloud Tread's payback for being excluded from his medical exam earlier, as if he hadn't been punished enough by the lecture that had followed it. 'If you can't respect us, how can we trust you'll respect your conjunx endura?', and 'Megatron isn't going to be half as accommodating as we are, so you'd better adjust your attitude programming.'

Starscream couldn't see Megatron being any more imaginatively sadistic than the council and Cloud Tread already were. Though he didn't particularly want to. Perhaps Megatron had different methods for keeping unruly underlings in line.

Because that's what he was to be. An underling. Unions were never equal in Vos, and no doubt he'd be the conjunx minor to Megatron's major. Unless Kaon's laws differed...

No use dwelling on it yet, he supposed.

He comm'ed Thundercracker and Skywarp to see if they'd be able to come and see him. They'd sounded tired but pleased at the prospect. Starscream sensed their day hadn't been any better than his own.

He waited for them, but an hour passed, and there was no knock on his door.

He kicked the berth post before dropping to it's hard uneven surface, feeling cold and lonely and miserable.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been separated from them for so long; not for years. Not since that occasion where he was being punished for cursing out a senator at the state banquet, when he'd still been a mechling, naive and stupid. They'd dared to bring him down from his room and _show him off_ to the palace's high society guests, show what a pretty thing he was growing into. Isn't he lovely? Won't he make a good conjunx for someone? Flaunting him about like rare piece of art, creating early interest for the Prince they had no use for but to trade off for political gain.

He couldn't recall what the senator had even said to him, but he remembered how it had made him feel. Armour crawlingly cold.

He shuddered at the recollection, and forced it down amongst every other dark memory from his past. He'd need to make room for more, he thought sardonically. Because this union with Megatron was hardly going to be the highlight of his cruddy life so far.

His misery was interrupted by muffled voices outside the door. It sounded like an argument. He moved to press his audial to the door, wondering if his trine had finally arrived to break him out, or at least keep him company.

"-against every code of conduct we have to let you in," the snotty voice of one of Cloud Tread's trine-mates was lecturing someone. His voice was a little higher in pitch than usual. He sounded... scared. "-risk besmirching the palace's reputation!"

Starscream pressed closer to listen, beyond intrigued.

"-greatest respect for your culture. Within reason." A deeper voice was saying, low pitched and rasping. Starscream veered away from the door and almost landed flat on his aft in suprise. Megatron?

"Can't make exceptions, even for you, Meg- My Lord, _Lord_ Megatron." The seeker nervously corrected. "Perhaps Cloud Tread can explain. If you will wait-"

"I'll do no such thing. Starscream is a guest in my fortress. You cannot hide him from me forever."

"I assure you we are doing no such thing. Prince Starscream requires a certain level of personal space. We ask that you not invade-"

It wasn't true! Unable to unlock the door himself and say so, Starscream banged on it in protest, punching the metal hard enough that the impact stung the sensors of his knuckles. There was a pause outside.

"Aren't you going to open the door?" He heard Megatron growl. "If he's fallen-"

"He hasn't."

There was a long awkward pause. Starscream couldn't hear anything, no matter how hard he strained his audials. He couldn't imagine they were just standing in silence-

There was quiet squeak, like someone struggling to breathe, then Cloud Tread's other trine-mate speaking with only the barest hint of a waver to his voice- "The door has been preprogrammed to permit your entry, sir."

Starscream quickly scrambled away from the door and threw himself on the berth, looking for something to busy himself with before the door could open. There was a ping, then creak as the swept away.

Starscream stared at the ceiling to look indifferent, but out of the corner of his optic he watched Megatron twist to fit his immense shoulders through the doorway. The room seemed to darken as his frame blocked out some of the overhead lighting, and Starscream couldn't pretend to ignore him anymore when he was so huge and imposing and _looming_ over him like the fortress itself loomed over Kaon.

Starscream found lying on the berth too much like exposing himself. He sat up again, shifting into a position he hoped was dignified but still standoffish, crossing his legs and laying his hands atop his knee, straight backed and nose high.

"Can I help you?" He demanded.

Megatron, despite his threatening tone outside, now looked unsure of himself. His expression had lost it's harsh edge, and his shield sized hands where grasping at air at his sides. He shifted his stance, looking between Starscream and the room he was in.

"I wasn't aware the room you had been given was so... small."

Starscream doubted Megatron was aware of much that went on in this fortress. He shrugged, "I assumed the reasoning was that I wouldn't be in here for long."

Megatron hummed. "I suppose conjunx endura's are expected to live together."

Starscream's tanks twisted, but he couldn't tell what the feeling behind the anxiety that caused it was. It felt like excitement. A morbid sort of excitement. The sort he felt when the council threatened to do terrible things to him if he failed to behave. (And he never _did_ behave).

He uncrossed then recrossed his legs, fidgeting. He didn't miss how Megatron's gaze was drawn to the movement. How it lingered afterwards, simmering optics moving from his knees to his thrusters and back again. It appeared he liked what he saw.

Starscream smirked.

Realising he'd been caught staring, Megatron cleared his vocaliser, optics snapping up again. "I understand you wished to be left undisturbed-"

"Is that what they told you?"

"...I came to ask after you." Megatron said after a pause, frown pulling at his features. "I was told you required a trip to the medic. If you're unwell-"

"What do you care?" Starscream cut off his faux concern with a glare."You want to see the medical files? Find a medic that doesn't care about patient-doctor confidentiality."

"This isn't an interrogation," Megatron growled.

"Isn't it?"

Megatron straightened, previous awkwardness evaporating in the face of Starscream's sass. "I think I have a right to know if my conjunx is ailing."

"I'm not sick, and I'm _not_ your conjunx. Not yet at least." Starscream kept his wings low and close, defensive. "So whatever you came here for, you're going to have to wait for it. The ceremony isn't scheduled for another three days yet."

Megatron didn't answer immediately, and the atmosphere grew thick between them. Starscream didn't like the calculating spark in Megatron's optics. It made him look clever, cleverer than dumb muscle had any right to be.  

"What do you think I've come here for?" Megatron finally asked, slowly, dangerously.

Starscream didn't want to accuse him of anything, not when he was locked in a room with him, and certainly not when he was so close to having to spend the rest of his life in 'marital bliss' with him. Thundercracker has been pressing him to make an ally of Megatron. And if he truly was a violent psychopath, it was probably better not provoke him.

"You tell me." He couldn't help himself.

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread's trine-mates were still guarding the hallway to Starscream's quarters. Skywarp was supposed to be leaning out of their hiding place to eavesdrop, but from his petulant pout, it was obvious he was more distracted by the other seeker's arm-mounted weapons.

"Why are _they_ allowed to be armed?"

Thundercracker breathed heavily, trying to look around his wing to see what was actually going on without giving away their position. Cloud Tread's trine would have no qualms about waving around those weapons to bully them back to their rooms.

"It was the palace that gave the order to disarm us so we wouldn't be able to resist being brought here. The Decepticons must not see Cloud Tread's trine as enough of a threat to see any reason to make them turn their weapons over."

"So you think Megatron would give us guns if we asked?" Skywarp said hopefully. "I bet he has hundreds. Really big cool ones too."

"He doesn't trust us." Thundercracker reminded him before he could get too carried away. "No one here does."

"He'll trust us once he gets to know us." Skywarp protested. "We might even be friends."

"Doubtful." Thundercracker grumbled. "And he'd want to know what we would need weapons for anyway. As far as he's concerned, we're just Starscream's servants."

Skywarp flashed him a scandalised look, " _I'm_ not a servant!"

"Keep your voice down." Thundercracker hissed, but neither of Cloud Tread's trine seemed to have heard them anyway. They were distracted actually, their optics flicking between each other and the door to Starscream's quarters. He straightened, wondering why they looked so worried.

"Something's wrong?" He murmured.

"You're fragging right somethings wrong. Me? A servant? I can trace my nobility back fifty million years-"

"Shh!" Thundercracker hushed him again, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Look."

Skywarp did look, finally seeing what Thundercracker had seen. "They look like they're gonna spring a leak. Do you think Screamer's escaped?"

"We would have known if he had." Thundercracker murmured, "And dumb and dumber there wouldn't still be standing around talking about it."

Before they could muse any more on what had Cloud Tread's trine in such a tizzy, there was a loud, muffled bang that seemed to come from within Starscream's quarters. Thundercracker jumped. Skywarp jumped. Cloud Tread's trine started to panic, trying to push one another forwards, nearer to the door.

"I'm going." Thundercracker could stand it no longer, pushing Skywarp out of the way to rise out of their hiding place and take long purposeful strides toward Starscream's room.

"TC!" Skywarp hissed, tiptoeing after him. "No! they said if we kept distracting Starscream they were gonna-"

The door to Starscream's quarters flew open. Cloud Tread's trine leapt backwards like spooked cyber-cats and hit their wings against the opposite wall when Megatron's towering frame came barreling through it. Thundercracker skidded and backtracked back around his corner as fast as he could, shoving Skywarp with him.

Secured back in their hiding place, Thundercracker watched as Megatron surveyed the two cowering seekers before him. He lifted a hand to the corner of his mouth, touching it tentatively. When he pulled it back it seemed to came away bloody. Thundercracker gawped.

Megatron rubbed his bloodied fingers together, looking supremely dissatisfied.

"That's some prince you have there." He sneered, throwing one last glower at Cloud Tread's trine before striding off.

He was barely gone from the corridor before Starscream appeared in the doorway, face flushed and craddling his right hand.

"What have you _done?_!" Cloud Tread's beige trine-mate demanded. He reached forward and grabbed Starscream's wrist. Starscream hissed in pain.

"Hey!" Thundercracker was sprinting down the corridor before Skywaro could stop him. "Take you hands off him-!"

"You two again..." The seeker scoffed.

"Oh, calm down, Thundercracker." Starscream snapped before a fight could break out. He wrenched his wrist free. "These imbeciles couldn't hurt me if they tried."

"Then what-?"

Thundercracker looked closer. It was the back of Starscream's hand that was damaged, the plating crushed and knuckles misaligned. The plating that remained was scuffed with matte grey.

"What is that thug made of anyway?" Starscream was muttering, struggling to open and close his hand. "Facial derma is supposed to be _softer_."

"Wait, you _slapped_ Megatron?" Skywarp breathed in awe, having arrived after Thundercracker.

Starscream scoffed, "I'm a prince, Skywarp, I don't slap." He winced again, "I punched him."

"Oh Primus..." Thundercracker felt sick.

"This is- is unacceptable!" Cloud Tread's golden trine-mate was saying. "You have disgraced us, disgraced _Vos_!" He was shaking his head, seemingly overwhelmed with so much shock he might have glitched himself. "We will have to issue an apology, punish you-"

Thundercracker shoved himself between Starscream and the golden seeker, shoulders squared. "Back. _Off_."

"Why'd you punch him?" Skywarp was asking, still distracted and mesmerised by Starscream's actions.

"To see what he'd do." Starscream said flippantly. "Not much else was provoking him."

"You were _trying_ to provoke him?" Thundercracker broke his staring contest with Cloud Tread's trine-mate to whip around and stare, incredulous. "Tell me you're not that stupid."

Starscream ignored him, "I wanted to know what I was up against."

Skywarp was looking at Starscream's knuckles, cradling his hand in his own. "You need to go to the medbay. Where else are you hurt?"

"I'm not." Starscream shrugged. "He didn't retaliate."

"We should report to Cloud Tread." Cloud Tread's trine were frowning. "He'll know what to do with you-"

"He's _going_ to the _medbay_ , aft face!" Skywarp argued. "He's hurt-"

Cloud Tread's trine didn't appear to care about Starscream's injuries. Thundercracker doubted they would if he was on the cusp of deactivating. They flashed Skywarp apathetic looks before lifting their weapons and aiming them directly between Skywarp's frowning optics.

"That's quite enough out of you." The golden one warned, waving the weapon around like he was using it to compensate for something. "Step away."

Skywarp didn't even flinch.

Thundercracker shifted, "Warp." He warned softly.

"It's fine." Starscream interceded, pushing Skywarp behind him so Cloud Tread's underling _had_ to lower his weapon. "I'll go."

"But your hand-"

"It can wait." Starscream stressed, glaring at them, "Go back to your rooms."

Skywarp stepped forward defiantly. The weapon rose again, this time active and glowing.

"Just _go_." Starscream snapped, passing the armed seeker to follow the judgmental one up the corridor. "Before you make this worse!"

Thundercracker took Skywarp's shoulder and held him back when he looked like he was about to follow. "We can't protect him if we've been killed."

Skywarp shrugged him off moodily. "Can't protect him either way."

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread hadn't been happy, neither at the news of Starscream's assault on Megatron nor at being woken so late into the recharge cycle. Starscream took some small pleasure in knowing he still had the ability to make these council seekers twitch, even if he had to break his hand to do it.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Cloud Tread had come up with a long list of punishments, along with several ideas on how to rectify the situation that really just sounded like more punishments to Starscream. Of all the unpleasantness he had been tasked with, at the top of his list was his apology to Megatron. To be done in person, and in front of an audience.

And after that, to ensure they're be no more 'misunderstandings' between now and the ceremony, his vocaliser was to be manually shut off.

Starscream had rolled his optics at that one. He was used to the medics at the palace flicking the switch on him. Sometimes it was in punishment, mostly it was just to keep him from insulting some slimy politician. It had been done so many times now that it had put a strain his vocaliser, left it scratchy and hoarse. But a distorted voice was far from the worst thing the palace had done to him.

Either way, Cloud Tread must have been tripping on the Kaonite fumes if he thought Starscream was _ever_ going to apologise to Megatron.

After two hours of having to listen to Cloud Tread's nonsense, Starscream was finally allowed to take his throbbing hand down to medical for treatment.

"Not that it hasn't made my week, but why did you do it?" Knock Out asked him halfway through the repairs, bent over his hand with a magnifying glass and a pair of tweezers. He worked slowly, but accurately. He was a good medic. There'd be little mistakes.

"I told you." Starscream answered, shifting awkwardly. "To see what he'd do."

"What did you think he was going to do?"

"Hit me back. I could tell he wanted to." Starscream watched Knock Out push a knuckle back into place with a click. Thanks to sensor blockers, he felt nothing. "I suppose I should be thankful he even has the self-restraint to bide his time. Not a lot of mechs like him do."

"Mech's like him?" Knock Out repeated.

"Violent low-caste thugs."

Knock Out didn't speak for a while. Starscream could tell he was annoyed though. The optic in the magnifying glass was narrowed. "Funny, that you think the low-caste are the violent ones."

Starscream rolled his optics. "Oh, don't start with that ' _we're the oppressed victims_ ' nonsense. You're not even of Kaon."

"All I'm saying is you're the one who punched someone tonight."

"I'm sure he'll pay me back in kind." Starscream mumbled, thinking about what a short union they were going to have if that was the case. Perhaps Megatron really was biding his time. He couldn't mess up the Prince's pretty face before the ceremony. Not until he didn't need it anymore.

"You should get to know Megatron." Knock Out suggested.

"I think I know as much as I care to learn."

"Only what the palace has told you. And from what you've told me, they might not be the most accurate source of information for you."

Starscream hummed. "You talk as if you know him."

"Megatron?" Knock Out shook his helm. "No, not really. Sure, I went to a few rallies. Listened to a few speeches. He just seemed honest. More genuine than the senators i was used to seeing blather on, pretending to care."

"And Megatron does care?"

Knock Out shrugged. "He cares about winning, at least."

Winning. Now _that_ , Starscream could relate to.

 

 


	6. Vosian Vows

Megatron did not expect to see Starscream for some time after the... incident. He was still nursing the ache in his jaw where the little brat had struck him. There had been no provocation or warning, and for a lazy high-caste prince, he was surprisingly fast.

But then, perhaps if Megatron had not been so preoccupied with what Starscream's expressive, prettily painted wings had been doing, he might have been better prepared to see the punch coming.

He grunted to himself and dropped the cooling pad he'd snuck out of the medbay from the side of his face. It was a lesson well learned. No matter how lovely Starscream looked, he would need to keep his wits about him, and his optics off those wings.

To make his evening worse, the palace Vosians had left him an inconsiderately large file on the roles expected of him for the ceremony arranged to unite him and Starscream as conjunxs in as little as two day away. Part of him was tempted to delegate the task of reading the huge body of work onto one of the envoys, have them break it down into the most essential of bullet points so he could blag his way through the entire affair.

A wiser part of him knew that was unwise. It was too much like a contract to entrust to anyone else. Starscream would not be a meek, obedient conjunx, and his fellow Vosians had already proved themselves skilful manipulators. He needed to be as well prepared as he possibly could if he wanted that promised airforce. So, he read.

When the door to the war chamber sprung open some time beyond midnight, after mind numbing hours of reading through hundreds of lines of vows he was expected to revise for recitation during the ceremony, he was almost relieved at the distraction. Until he saw high arched wings and a perpetual scowl.

He straightened, schooling his features.

"Starscream." He greeted pleasantly, glancing behind the seeker to see if his gaggle of old fashioned minders were lurking behind him.

But the doors swept shut without any following company. Starscream was alone.

"Where is your entourage?" He asked carefully, wondering if Starscream was here to kill him.

Starscream gave a small shrug, "Recharging, I expect."

Megatron had been told, several times now by the officials the palace had sent, that Starscream was in no way equipped to be wandering the halls of the fortress unchaperoned, being young, vulnerable, and of 'tender spark' as he was. If Megatron wanted to earn the trust of the seekers in power, a simple way to do it would be to help enforce their wishes, and have someone take Starscream back to the safety of his room.

He swirled his glossa around his mouth, feeling at the denta Starscream's punch had loosened earlier. He wondered why the Vosians were so keen to treat Starscream like a precious ornament when it was so obvious he could take care of himself. Delusion, perhaps.

He kicked the chair next to him out from under the table, deciding not to report Starscream's post-curfew wanderings. Absently he knew this could be a test. If it was, he had probably failed it.

Starscream considered the offered chair, a sneer pulling at his mouth like something about it was unsuitable. It was made of plain sturdy steel, unlike whatever gold and cushioned monstrosities they would have had in the high palace of Vos.

Starscream took the chair anyway and dragged it a little further away from Megatron before smoothly sitting down, kicking a leg up atop the other to cross them at the knee. His thruster glinted in the low light.

Megatron reminded himself to keep his focus.

"I'm not here to apologise." Starscream said abruptly.

Megatron leant back in his seat. "I wasn't expecting you to."

"I," Starscream stopped, blinking. "You weren't?"

"I shouldn't have invaded your personal space," he acknowledged. Starscream had rougher edges than he would have expected of a prince, but he was a prince nonetheless. And as Soundwave had reminded him (several times now) Starscream was in an unfamiliar place, experiencing an unfamiliar culture, surrounded by unfamiliar mechs. Starscream may not visibly express a lot of fear for his situation, but that didn't mean he wasn't experiencing it.

And Megatron knew how tempting it was to hit things to look brave.

"My conduct was inappropriate," he decided to relent, mostly to see what Starscream would do when given an inch. "I apologise."

Starscream was quiet for a moment. Nothing about his expression implied he was going to accept the apology. "Does 'inappropriate' behaviour warrant being hit here?"

"No." Megatron said carefully. "I wouldn't advise raising a hand to me again."

Starscream made an amused noise, looking down. "Not many mechs have the privilege of being hit by a prince more than once."

"Oh?"

"They're usually executed the first time."

Megatron studied Starscream, looking for a hint of amusement at what he'd said, unsure if he was joking. "Had many put to death, have you?"

"Would that I could." Starscream sounded resentful. "I don't have the authority to pick my own _fuel_ , never mind end someone's miserable existence."

"The palace manages your diet?" Megatron asked, wondering how Starscream's delicate little tanks were coping with the vast difference in the fuel here.

"That's one way of putting it." Starscream muttered.

Megatron sighed deeply, "I suggest we leave tonight in the past and focus on the future. Agreed?"

Starscream made a vague, unprincely noise, and Megatron couldn't shake the feeling that Starscream hadn't wanted the conversation to be steered to safer ground. Megatron would have thought he'd be grateful for the free pass. It wasn't every cycle an assault on Megatron's person went unpunished.

"I expect you have a lot of preparation to complete too," He continued anyway, lifting the datapad containing the huge datafile on his instructions for the ceremony. "The vows alone will take hours."

Starscream nodded, "Mine are longer." 

"I pity you. This will take a great deal of time to memorise."

"I already know mine." Starscream shook his helm. "Have done for years."

Megatron knew there were privileged high-caste younglings out there who's sole ambition in life was to have a perfect ceremony and a handsome conjunx and their 'happily ever after'. He hadn't thought Starscream would be one of them. "Eager?"

Starscream snorted. "No. First thing they taught me. Nothing else is as important."

Megatron would have thought that just about _anything_ else in the world was more important than memorising pages of drivel about pledging loyalty and commitment. Tarn didn't even _have_ vows. In a Tarnish ceremony the couple fuelled one another, clasped hands, accepted well wishes from the few intimate guests they had invited, and the rest of the union occurred in private. The bizarre Vosian concept of a conjunxing needing to be 'consummated' to be completed did not exist in Tarn, and it was no ones business but the couple involved whether an interface happened or not.

Megatron had only just read the section of the datafile explaining that the _sheets_ from their berth would be inspected the morning after, to ensure their union was legitimate in Vosian law. He frowned at the reminder.

Starscream clearly already knew all this, and appeared to have been raised with the knowledge. He must have sat through hundreds lectures on what archaic behaviours and duties were expected of him as a conjunx, rather than as a ruling prince. And here Megatron had thought they'd make a greater effort to tutor him in politics and diplomacy.

"I expect that was a small part of your education. With your privilege, you must have gone to the best academies."

"I was educated at the palace." Starscream said coldly, like the fact still chafed. "It was more important I knew how to serve a leader. Not be a leader. 'Prince' is just a ceremonial title now. They weren't going to waste an expensive education on me."

Megatron was struck with the unsavoury thought that there were probably Kaonian gutter mechs with better formal educations than Starscream. He decided not to comment on it further.

He glanced at the datafile again, glimpsing at the chapter titled 'providing heirs', namely the section that detailed how Starscream was going to be required to subject himself to an inspection every week, so medics could look for signs of carrying, ensure he was still fertile, and search for evidence that attempts to spark him had been made. Every week. Until he was carrying.

Like some sort of brood mare.

Well, _that_ wasn't happening.

As soon as Megatron had his airforce and no longer needed the approval of the Vosian palace, a lot of this nonsense wasn't going to be happening.

"The union should be recognised in Tarnish law." He said.

Starscream stared at him with that same unreadable expression on his face, optics calculating and sharp. "...Cloud Tread would consider any deviation from tradition-"

"It's his decision?" Megatron quirked a brow.

"He's a mouth piece for the palace," Starscream scowled, "It's their decision. Incorporating Tarnish tradition into a Vosian ceremony? They'd rather take me away and give me and your future airforce to your enemies."

"Would you prefer that?"

Starscream didn't answer.

"Two ceremonies then," Megatron decided, laying his hands on the table. "One Vosian, one Tarnish. I wish to make the union legitimate in my culture as well. Should anything happen to Vos..."

Starscream's face was still unreadable, even at Megatron's vaguely implied threat. "The palace would never allow-"

"Does the palace need to know?"

Starscream pouted. "What is a Tarnish ceremony anyway? Something barbaric, no doubt."

"Perhaps, by your standards."

Starscream's optics brightened. Primus knew what sort of things he was imagining. Drunkenness and dancing on the tables probably. He'd be right.

"I won't do anything beneath my dignity." Starscream sniffed.

Megatron waved his concerns aside. "It's no more extravagant than a simple gathering. I offer you gifts in front of witnesses and we fuel together. There are no vows, nor is there a consummation."

"What sort of gifts?"

"You'll have to wait and see," Megatron let a small smile curve the corner of his mouth. "Traditionally, it has to be a surprise."

Starscream looked convinced enough at the prospect of gifts. He stood, "Fine. I'll cooperate for your ceremony. Just don't get me anything cheap."

Megatron wondered what Starscersm would define as 'cheap'.

"Noted."

"Hnn." Starscream looked down his nose at him. "If Cloud Tread asks, tell him I apologised, won't you?"

"For that impressive right hook?" Megatron couldn't help a smirk, rubbing at his cheek.

"For being 'an immature, violent, and undeserving little creature'," Starscream scoffed, repeating someone else's words. "One that should have been, now what was it," he thought for a brief second, before snapping his fingers. "Oh yes; 'turned over to the lowest of Kaonite pleasure houses where my vulgarities would have been more suited'."

Megatron stroked his jaw. He'd known many a resident of Kaon's legendary pleasure houses. And kinder, harder workers were hard to come by. Clearly, Starscream had been raised by mechs that didn't think much of them.

"I'll be sure to tell him." Megatron growled.

Starscream looked him over one last time, then nodded. "I should go, before someone realises I'm gone."

Megatron offered a dismissive wave, turning back to his datapad and holding it high so he wouldn't be distracted by the sight of Starscream walking out.

Beautiful seeker. Terrible attitude. He wondered who was to blame for that.

Another thing that needed to change.

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread was true to his word. After receiving confirmation that Starscream had 'apologised' for his behaviour, he made a snide comment about how high his hopes were for Megatron 'breaking him in', and dragged him down to the medbay to make good on his threat to silence him.

"Only ten million years ago your predecessors took vows of silence," he was nattering on to himself with one of his favourite 'back in my day' spiels. "Had their vocalisers removed altogether."

"They clearly had nothing of intelligence to say." Starscream grumbled.

"Neither do you." Cloud Tread glowered. "Prince's should be seen and not heard."

After several more comments of this variety they finally reached the medbay. Cloud Tread made sure to drag Starscream past Knock Out's workspace as quickly as he could. Starscream stared after it, privately hoping the medic would hear them passing and come out.

When they reached the end of the long corridor, Cloud Tread finally set optics on a medic he liked the look of. Unlike Knock Out, this one was obviously a Kaonite; a green plated, heavy construction build. He looked up when Cloud Tread strode into his workspace, pulling harshly on Starscream's wrist as though to remind him attempts at escape would not be tolerated.

"Yes?" The medic asked, sounding rather snobbish for a Kaonite.

Cloud Tread pulled an equally snobbish face in response. "Your skills are required." He said, pushing Starscream forward.

The medic wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it down, looking put out, "He looks fine."

"Your opinion is irrelevant. Deactivate his vocaliser."

Starscream watched the medic pull a face. "You seem to have misunderstood my purpose here," the medic folded his thick arms. "My job is to _fix_ mechs, not break them."

"Really?" Cloud Tread arched a sarcastic brow, "I would have expected a mech looking like you to be more than used to smashing things."

To the medic's credit, he didn't react to Cloud Tread's provocation. "Find someone else to do your dirty work."

Cloud Tread made a noise of pure frustration, one Starscream hadn't ever had the privilege of hearing before. Realising he was dealing with yet another medic that couldn't be bullied, Cloud Tread gave up and stormed out. He didn't even remember to bark at Starscream follow.

Starscream glanced at the medic, wondering if he expected a thank you.

"I hope you don't have any emotional attachment to him," the medic spoke first, nodding to the door Cloud Tread had left through. "Megatron doesn't have a lot of tolerance for mechs goin' out of their way to mute others."

Good to know, Starscream thought, offering him a nod of thanks.

It appeared Knock Out wasn't unique in being a medic that actually possessed empathy. The palace medical team must have been a unique breed.

 

* * *

 

 

Starscream decided not to let the accidental freedom Cloud Tread had inadvertently gifted him by leaving him unsupervised go to waste, and didn't return to his cramped little room. Instead, he walked the halls looking for Thundercracker and Skywarp. He couldn't hail them, as he was sure Cloud Tread had his communicator monitored and they'd use any outgoing signal to track him down and herd him back into captivity, so he was just going to have to find them the old fashioned way.

He became lost on more than one occasion, finding and exploring the fortress's few communal spaces. First he found a sparring room, dark and open and filled with sparring drones ten generations out of date. He lingered, watching the huge hulking mechs spar each other, noting how differently they moved to the Vosian guards he had watched when he was young. These mechs were brawlers, not traditionally taught warriors. Starscream wondered where Megatron might have found them.

The recreation space he found next he didn't spend as long in. The mechs there were off shift and bored and very much welcomed the distraction his arrival brought. Conversations tapered off and helms lifted as whistles and jeers called out. He heard the odd hasty whisper of " _Don't! That's Megatron's seeker_!', but most of the mechs were insubordinate and disrespectful enough not to care.

Starscream turned back the way he'd come and flipped them a vulgar gesture on the way out.

The room erupted in amused bellowing, but none of them were stupid enough to follow him.

Now thoroughly lost, Starscream was beginning to contemplate actually using his comm and alerting one of Cloud Tread's trine to his location just so he could be found. Even if it did mean returning to his room....

Then, instead of finding his way, Soundwave found _him_.

The eery mech was stood stock still at the end of a hallway, doing his best impression of a bulkhead panel. He was so still, in fact, that Starscream didn't notice him stood there until he was right in front of him.

He jumped and hissed though his teeth, "What the Frag are you-"

"Your highness." Soundwave always remembered to use his title. "I have been sent to retrieve you."

"By who?" Starscream sneered, thinking if it was Cloud Tread he would rather stay lost forever and starve to death.

"Lord Megatron."

Well, marginally better.

"What does he want?"

Soundwave didn't answer, turning with a simple order of "Come."

Starscream wasn't in any position to disobey. It was either follow or stay lost on the creepy lower levels.

So he trailed behind Soundwave and soon the corridors grew familiar. They approached what Starscream knew to be the living quarters, and he resigned himself to the fact that he was being taken back to his room.

When Soundwave took the wrong turning, Starscream's curiosity piqued.

He recognised his surroundings as the area of the fortress where Megatron's quarters resided, and another twinge of nervousness rose at the thought that that was where he was being taken, to see Megatron in his room. In private. 

Without the backup of his trine or one of Cloud Tread's overbearing chaperones.

He may have been raised a sheltered little prince, but he was aware of what happened to foolish young mechs who allowed themselves to be lured somewhere 'out back', too easily charmed by sleazy elders with their own agendas.

And here Starscream had begun to think Megatron wasn't like that.

Soundwave did bring him to Megatron's room, but instead of knocking and waiting, he let himself in, gesturing with a quick wave for Starscream to follow.

Surprisingly, Megatron was _not_ waiting inside with high grade and a sultry smirk. The room was empty, the berth had been made, and the few possessions Starscream had seen before when he'd passed through the room for a bath, were now gone.

He looked to Soundwave for an explanation. "Where is Megatron?"

"Lord Megatron has taken up temporary residence elsewhere in order to better accommodate the needs of your highness." Soundwave explained. "He has invited you to use his larger quarters in his absence."

Starscream blinked. "The room I had before-"

"Was unbefitting to your needs and status."

Oh. Unbefitting? _Status_? Something _fluttered_ in his lower tanks.

So, Megatron had actually done something to make his living arrangements more suitable after seeing the room they'd given him the first time round. Granted, there wasn't a great deal of improvement giving him this one instead, but there was the attached wash room and some extra few feet of space, and the berth looked marginally wider. Megatron was doing the best with what he had to work with.

However.

"I suppose Megatron will want to move back in once we're conjunxed?" He realised. He remembered an earlier conversation he'd had with Skywarp, about how the likelihood of him and Megatron sharing quarters had been slim. So they'd been wrong in thinking Megatron would allow Starscream his own space and only visit to (as Skywarp had so disgustingly put it) take his pleasure.

"Soundwave: cannot say." Soundwave seemed reluctant to share more information. "I have been instructed to ensure you are comfortable. Are you comfortable?"

Starscream wondered what he'd do if he said no.

"My trine." He decided to take the opportunity presented to him. "Find them and bring them to me. And if you see any other seekers snooping about, don't tell them where I am. I need a break from their stupidity."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave said, and left.

Starscream stared after him. He didn't think he'd ever given an order so easily obeyed. It made him wonder if Decepticons were naturally subservient, or if this was Megatron's influence again.

Now alone to explore the room -without the repercussions of spying as there had been before- Starscream began going through the storage spaces. Sadly, Megatron had been thorough, and everything had been cleared out. All he found was a blank datapad and a broken stylus.

Huffing in boredom, he flopped on the berth, and was hit with a waft of Megatron's lingering scent. He would have thought they'd at least change the berth coverings!

He dropped his head to the fabric regardless, tired and overwrought. The sheets were still scratchy on his nose when he buried it in them, but Megatron's musk was... nice, in a backwards, rough, masculine sort of way. It reminded him in ways, of the guard barracks below the Vosian palace. Grease and gunpowder mixed with the musk of an overworked frame.

A pool of warmth grew between his hips at the thought of Megatron coming in from a long day fighting, frame running hot and engines rumbling. An older mech like him would have loud engines, he imagined, with revs that could shake glass and be heard miles off.

He was about to consider doing something completely shameless, inappropriate, and worth considerable condemnation by every prudish old mech that had ever raised him -when the door to Megatron's quarters sprung open with an enthusiastic whoosh.

Starscream sat up in a hurry, hand shooting out from between his thighs.

"Knock!" He yelled as Skywarp came barrelling in, followed by a much more sedate Thundercracker.

"Soundwave sent us. How long have you been in _here_?" Skywarp yelped, looking scandalised and obviously overthinking everything. Thundercracker just looked worried.

"Five minutes." Starscream scowled, "Stop looking at me like that. There's nothing inappropriate going on. He's not even staying here."

"He's given you his room?" Thundercracker frowned. "That's... generous of him. Considering you slapped him in the face just last night."

"Punched. And he deserved it, and knows it." Starscream, sniffed. "This is probably an apology gift."

Thundercracker wasn't convinced, "How did he deserve-"

"Never mind that now." Starscream cut him off. "I've taken steps to keep Cloud Tread out of our turbines for now, so you're staying here with me tonight. I won't have you recharging in those dirty barracks."

"Is this a good idea?" Thundercracker murmured. "Us still recharging with you? Not a lot of mechs here understand trines. Not a lot of them seem to want to. Megatron might take it the wrong way-"

"Megatron doesn't own me yet. And he is conjunxing a _seeker_." Starscream pointed out, twirling his finger around playfully. "So he'd better get used to it."

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere." Skywarp grumbled, climbing into the berth with Starscream. "...Wow, it smells of him."

Starscream wanted to tell him to stop sniffing _his_ future conjunx's smell, but thankfully realised before saying anything out loud that that was a ridiculously stupid thing to say. So instead he just glared and nudged Skywarp away.

"I just can't see Megatron tolerating us hanging around you forever." Thundercracker said, still sounding worried. "Especially if he has plans for you to cohabit with him. I don't think Warp and I will be invited."

Starscream patted the berth to coax Thundercracker over. "I wouldn't worry about it," he reassured him. "As _if_ I'd ever choose Megatron over you."

 


	7. The First Prince Of Tarn

"They're here, my liege."

Megatron set aside his intelligence report to give Scrapper his full attention, flicking his hand to gesture him in. The Constructicon passed the threshold with the three stacked cases he held, carefully setting them on the table in front of Megatron.

Megatron stood and flicked the locks off the top one, flipping the lid. Two polished nullrays glinted up at him. Silvery white and glossed to a high shine. He lifted one out, weighing it his servo.

"They were able to reduce weight without loss of power." Scrapper reassured.

Megatron turned it over in his hands, trying from gauge for himself how it might feel on Starscream's arm. Being so used to the fusion cannon, the weapon felt inconsequential to him, but seekers preferred speed and manoeuvrability, and this gift wasn't for him.

"It will suffice." He nodded, pressing it back into the protective foam and moving to inspect next two cases. Both also contained a pair of nullrays, altered for weight and colour to suit their future owners.

"Shall I send for him?" Scrapper shut the lids on the cases and moved to take them back.

"Later." Megatron dismissed. "They're a gift. A surprise." He gave Scrapper a pointed look, spelling out that there would be repercussions for anyone who spoiled it. "I am attempting to endear myself to him."

Scrapper hesitated when he took the case. Megatron noticed.

"What is it?"

"Hook mentioned seeing Starscream in his medbay."

The second time in less than a week Starscream had visited a medic secretly. Megatron worked to keep the concern from his voice. "Was he injured?"

"No, but the seeker he was with wanted him to be. Demanded Hook deactivate his vocaliser."

"Which seeker?"

Scrapper gave a vague shrug, "An older one? I can't say. Seekers all look the same to me."

Megatron nodded, giving him leave to go on his way. 'Older' wasn't much to go by, but of the five seekers it might have been, only one designation stood out. Cloud Tread.

He would need to get those nullrays on Starscream sooner rather than later.

 

* * *

 

Starscream was in Megatron's berth, the tight arms of his trine around his middle and noses pressed into his neck. Skywarp was mumbling behind him in his recharge, knees brushing the backs of his thighs as he stirred fitfully. Thundercracker was only dozing, still save for the thumb he was wordlessly stroking over the edge of Starscream's wing. It reminded Starscream of years gone by, when they were all young and every few months the palace allowed him weekends off undisturbed- conditional to his good behaviour. He'd always spend it lounging around with his trine, basking in their company, re-saturating their neglected bond.

But then as he aged the mark for 'good behaviour' only grew harder to achieve, and the weekends off dissolved with it.

He nestled closer to them, savouring what little moments of contentment he was still permitted before the reigns that steered his life were passed to another.

The door pinged, the chime out of tune where the battery was dying. Starscream lifted his head with a scowl, nudging Skywarp until he heard the choked snort of an interrupted snore. "Door." He muttered.

Skywarp took his sweet time, huffing hotly against the back of his neck. Starscream cringed and flicked a wing back, and getting the hint, Skywarp blindly crawled out of the berth, rubbing at his optics. Starscream yanked the covers tight around his shoulders to ward off the chill.

"Who is it?" Starscream felt Thundercracker's rumble against his chassis rather than heard it.

Skywarp unlocked the door as it pinged again, and Starscream strained his neck cabling to see, bracing against the possibility of it being Cloud Tread and his cronies. He had switched off his comm to save himself from a night full of abusive texts. Finding him here, unwed but dozing in a mech's berth, would exacerbate whatever trouble he'd already be in.

But it wasn't Cloud Tread. Skywarp stepped aside and revealed a skinny burgundy mech he didn't think he'd ever seen before; sheepishly curled in on himself, neck shrunk into hunched shoulders, awkward for intruding. Not the sort of Decepticon Starscream had grown used to expecting.

He sat up, sheets falling away. "What?"

"I have a message." The mech said, pinprick yellow optics flicking between Thundercracker and Skywarp. "A _private_ message. From Lord Megatron."

"Go ahead." Starscream draped himself back over Thundercracker, dropping his head to a warm chest and flicking his hand. "Whatever you have to tell me can be said in front of them."

He was answered with silence. Brow creasing at the disobedience, he sat up again. " _Well_?"

"He-" the mech hesitated, shoulders rising higher, "There have been scheduling issues. Regarding an arrangement you made with him. Yesterday?"

The stuttering hesitance was so annoying it took Starscream a full half minute to actually comprehend what he might have been referring to; the Tarnish ceremony. "Oh?"

"It has been moved forward." The mech nodded, seemingly happy that he'd delivered the message without giving away it's actual contents to the other seekers. The secrecy was an indication of Megatron distrusting his trine. Starscream couldn't blame him. Cloud Tread and his trine must have given him an awful opinion on seekers.

"How far forward?"

"Today."

" _ **Today?!**_ " His screech shook glass. His trine and the messenger jumped. "I can't conjunx him today! The Vosian ceremony isn't till tomorrow and we agreed after-"

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Thundercracker inserted himself into the confusion. "He wants to conjunx you before-"

Starscream flapped an impatient hand at him. "No he, he wanted to make the union lawful in Tarn _and_ Vos. Came up with the ridiculous notion of having _two_ unions."

"Awww," Skywarp fawned, head titling.

"Shut up you." Starscream turned his attention back to the knee knocking, shivering little coward of a messenger Megatron had sent. "And _you_ , you can go right back to your lord and master and tell him we agreed on the day after tomorrow."

"He in-insisted-"

"And _I_ am a prince, and _I_ insist. I am in no mood to be conjunxed today. Tell him he can keep it under his panel for one more night and if he has a problem with that? He has two good hands. He can frag himself instead."

 

* * *

 

Starscream hadn't expected such a meek shaking little messenger to return to Megatron and repeat his answer word for word. Something about being told to 'frag himself' must have riled the temperamental bulldozer of a mech, because no more than five minutes after he had sent the messenger scurrying off did Megatron return in his place.

"You two." Calculating optics passed over Thundecracker and Skywarp in his berth, covers lifted to their shoulders like the fabric could shield them from the violence they clearly expected. "Leave."

"There's not going anywhere!" Starscream objected, knowing from experience there were few reasons anyone ever want to be in a room alone with him, and they all involved punishment.

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere!" Skywarp backed him up, rising to his knees on the berth. Megatron looked at him, and it was enough to send Skywarp under the covers again. Megatron stared them both down long enough to ensure there would be no more interruptions from them.

"I require a _private_ word." He growled, facing Starscream once again.

"Shame, because my trine aren't leaving."

"Fine." Megatron passed him and snatched his elbow on the way. His presence alone drove Starscream forward, Megatron hardly needing force to guide him into the washroom. The contact between them, the warm palm on his armour, sent a tingle through the sensors on his inner arm. He tore himself free when the door clamped shut behind them.

He was indignant and embarrassed at the manhandling, "What do you think you're-"

"They're hurting you." Megatron said simply and with little emotion.

Starscream gawped, "How dare you. They're my _trine_ -"

"Not them." Megatron stalked closer, and there was fire in the crimson of his optics. Starscream shrank back, wings dropping low. Megatron was terribly tall when stood this close. "The seekers from the palace."

Starscream wrung his digits together, feeling small and stupid in the darkness of Megatron's shadow. "You're, you're mistaken, my lord," he dropped the attitude, praying Megatron would respond as well to snivelling sycophancy as his minders always had. "They've never damaged me."

"I'm not talking about damage. Not physical."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Megatron stared him down, expression hard as the steel that made up his armour. "I will have them removed."

If that was said as a reassurance, it was a bad one. Megatron understood so little.

"They need to be here for the ceremony, to represent the palace." Starscream reminded him. "And after."

"After? You will be mine after the ceremony."

Starscream's bow taut nerves threatened to snap. He clenched his denta and hissed through them. "You think you'll _own me_ , do you?"

"You're quick to jump to conclusions. My meaning was that you'll no longer be _theirs_. And no longer subject to their torment."

Ha, if only things could be fixed with a political union and a change of residence. "It's tradition." He said lightly.

"It is _abuse_." Megatron snarled.

Starscream didn't like that word. It chilled him, crawled under his armour and reminded him all too well of what he _was_ behind all the glamour and wealth and titles.

"The price of being a prince. And I will always be a prince. Whether I conjunx you or not, the palace owns me." He shoved past Megatron and opened the door. "Not every slave wears collar and chain."

He let the door shut on Megatron's struck face.

 

* * *

 

That he couldn't simply kill the seekers and be done with it chafed Megatron's already frayed temper. Such an act would kamikaze any hope of amicability between him and Vos. They would refuse him the promised Air Force, perhaps even attack him with it. They would try to take Starscream back. Or worse, he would leave.

Politics as they were meant any progress he might make was at a dreadful crawl. He was stronger than Vos, in number and in firepower, but a city standing was worth far more to a conquerer than a city in ruins. He had to be patient.

And he had to run the infuriating knowledge of Starscream's situation (and his damn acceptance of it) from his mind before it drove him to rash impulsiveness. He took a breath through his olfactory to cool his burning chest. And released.

And with a snarl swept an arm across the nearest workstation and sent it's contents smashing to the ground.

"Soundwave." He rasped.

His ever-lurking lieutenant stepped into the light. Megatron braced himself against the workstation, focusing on one singular scratch to ground himself. "He is being difficult. Work on his trine. Get them on side."

Soundwave nodded, "The ceremony?"

"Is going ahead." He decided stubbornly. Hissy fits be damned, he needed to secure Starscream's place at his side however he could, in as many ways as he could. The palace could still physically remove Starscream, but legally, they would be joined under Tarnish law. And if the worst came to head and Vos took the side of Iacon over him, the council, as corrupt as they were, were sticklers for rules. If Starscream was claimed, the palace couldn't re-conjunx him elsewhere.

Starscream would be useless to them.

And would mean everything to him and the Decepticons. Starscream might think himself a powerless pawn, a slave to the palace's whims, but the seekers of Vos adored him. Would flock to him if he asked. Simply because he was their prince.

"And see what you can find from Swindle." He added, feeling an uncharacteristic surge of generosity. "For Starscream. Whatever looks expensive."

"Acknowledged."

 

* * *

 

"You look nice Screamer."

Skywarp's irritating little voice was soft and kind, and for once Starscream didn't snap at him for the unflattering nickname. He stood in front of the cracked reflective glass Thundercracker had managed to find (all they could find for a mirror) and worried at the glass of his cockpit. Unlike pure solvent, water left marks.

It was the best he could do. There would be no crowd of beauticians strolling through the halls of Kolkular with polish and paint ready to do touchups for this appearance. He felt uncomfortable and ugly. Too bare, too natural. It was one thing to live among these Decepticons in such a state, but his conjunxing ceremony? Even if it was only the Tarnish one.

"We shouldn't be late." Thundercracker said, touching the small of his back in encouragement. It was time to go.

Starscream half turned to check his reflection again and caught sight of his own miserable face. He re-schooled his features.

"Let's go." He turned on his heel and led the way, tossing his helm high because even if he was feeling ugly, he was still a damn sight more appealing than the low life's loitering the fortress.

The ceremony was scheduled to take place in the Throne room, and much like a Vosian ceremony, the intended conjunx endura's were the last to arrive. Other than a late entrance, Starscream had no idea what to expect. He hadn't been given instructions, or tutored in what to say, what to do, where and how to stand. He had never so much as been to court at the palace without at least one minder stood behind him with a vice like grip on his wrist, murmuring instructions into his audials and squeezing hard enough to dent if he dared step out of line.

Soundwave was stood outside the doors, waiting for him. He pressed the control panel wordlessly. It blinked blue and the double doors swung open on mechanical hinges.

Starscream expected a dais, rows and rows of seats for the guests to be seated in, and a quiet sombre atmosphere. But when the doors opened he was faced with a room full of rowdy, laughing mechs, scattered tables littered with cubes, and two large thrones at the top of the room; equal in size.

He took a step forward, drawn to them, but a hand on his shoulder held him back. Soundwave shook his helm and nodded behind him, Megatron was approaching to join them. Very little effort had been put into his appearance, Starscream noted, eyeing the scruffy state of the warlord's pedes.

"We walk in together." Megatron explained, and stunned Starscream when he held up an arm for him to take, like the most cultured of high caste gentlemechs. Starscream heard Skywarp make an expressive noise somewhere behind him, but paid him no mind, looping his arm into Megatron's. The armour was warm under his palm.

"Where is Cloud Tread?" He murmured, failing to see the seeker and his trine amongst the laughing crowd. And they would have stood out easily, being miserable stiff old fools that they were.

Megatron glanced at Soundwave. "Distracted?"

"Affirmative." Soundwave agreed. "The palace seekers so far remain unaware of the ceremony taking place."

"Keep it that way."

Megatron began to walk, slowing his stride for Starscream's benefit as he led him into the room. Starscream knew he was to follow one step behind, now and forever. It was expected of him now. The thought soured his expression before he even reached the thrones.

Mechs lifted drinks in toasts as they passed. Starscream couldn't see a single person of note amongst them. No senators. No royalty. Just pit fighters and rough warriors with chipped paint and bulky shoulders and accents that set Starscream's denta on edge.

Megatron released him when they reached the thrones, and Starscream dumped himself down into one without ceremony, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Thundercracker and Skywarp had followed them in, and were being dragged towards one of the nearest tables by a group of over-friendly mechs. Skywarp looked to be already enjoying himself. Thundercracker was pulling a constipated uncomfortable face.

Starscream looked away. They could fend for themselves. He had bigger problems.

"So now what?" He watched the larger mech ease himself into the other throne with far more grace.

"Now?" Megatron waved a mech from one of the closest tables over, shifting to get comfortable. "Now we drink."

Starscream was handed a cube of energon. Plain simple energon. Starscream would have really appreciated something stronger. He went to take a drink.

"No," Megatron corrected, guiding his cube down with a finger on it's rim. "From this one." He held up his cube.

Ah, a pointless exchange to symbolise... something, Starscream supposed. He exchanged cubes again with Megatron, watching him over the rim as he took a sip. Megatron's optics dimmed to something like a smoulder. Starscream's fuel pump stuttered.

He was still hiding behind the cube when a group of green mechs approached the thrones. One looked vaguely familiar. Three of them held large rectangular cases. They lifted them in presentation. Looking at him.

Starscream removed the cube to ask, "What?"

"A gift." Megatron sat slumped in his throne, content to watch. "For you."

They were large cases. Starscream imagined how they might be filled with hundreds of jewels and trinkets when the mech lowered the first one into his lap. Megatron was watching eagerly as he flipped the lid and opened it up.

Nullrays; re-painted and redesigned to sit on his arms comfortably. He lifted one out, appreciative of it's design and power. He had been unarmed since he arrived here. Though he had been expecting something sparkly too. It was the one thing he had always been eager to hear about during his lessons, that he would be showered with jewels by his intended. He should have known better than to expect it of Megatron.

The other two cases contained identical weapons for Thundercracker and Skywarp, and their reactions were far more enthusiastic and grateful than his own had been. Starscream knew he should make an effort to wipe the misery off his face, especially with Megtaron watching so closely.

"Thank you." He bit out.

"You don't like them." Megatron was observant enough to notice. Not completely hopeless then.

"I do." He lied, placing them back into the case. "They'll be useful."

Useful for what, he wondered. Like he'd ever be permitted to actually use them. From here on out he was a kept seeker, a homemaker and doting conjunx. Someone whose sole purpose here was as a berth warmer was hardly going to need a gun. Not when he had a big strong conjunx like Megatron to protect him.

He wanted to gag.

He was interrupted in the act by another mech approaching with another box. Sitting up, he saw a line forming behind him. Mechs with boxes. Gifts. For him.

A nervous sort of excitement knotted in his tanks as he opened the next one, plunking a container of polish so small it had to be expensive. Out of the corner of his optic he knew Megatron was still watching, so he worked to keep the nonconsensual smile trying to work it's way across his face small and modest, corners twitching when he opened the next gift.

Data-books, and energon goodies, and silk polishing cloths, imported from some distant exotic planet. More polish and solvent and a dagger made of rippling orange plasma. Could cut through anything, he heard Megatron murmur gently. A perfect something to hide under his pillow, Starscream thought, running his digits over the ornate handle.

It was the very last gift that caught the air in his intakes, very firmly placed in his lap by Soundwave. It was a small box, but heavy. Curious, Starscream cracked the lid and light poured out to bathe him in radioactive blue. It was a crystal, as big as his fist and cleanly cut. He lifted it to optic level and saw his own stunned face staring back at him from a dozen angles.

"A taste of home," Megatron commented, leaning across his armrest to be closer. "You agreed to a Tarnish ceremony. It was only fair to incorporate some of your traditions."

Starscream recovered quickly, lowering the crystal into his lap, but unable to look away. "And will you be giving me a second tomorrow? Two ceremonies. Two crystals, surely?"

"You'd be taking some liberties." Megatron gestured to the pile of gifts beside Starscream's throne.

"I'm your conjunx endura." Starscream reminded him, feeling flattered and spoilt and confident because of it. "If _I_ can't take liberties, who can?"

"You make a valid point," Megatron left the promise of a second crystal unspoken and began to rise. Sensing he was supposed to follow, so did Starscream.

"Now what?" He asked, working the crystal over in his hands, reluctant to put it down and leave his hands with nothing to distract themselves.

"It is done." Megatron said simply.

"Just like that?" Starscream couldn't help blurt. No vows? No stuffy prayers or proclamations? No uncomfortable retreat to a berth room?

"I suppose there is one thing." Megatron turned to face him.

A hand on the small of his back steered him closer. Starscream's hands on the crystal clenched when a finger tipped his chin up and a warm mouth met his. Flooded with the smell of gunpower and iron, Starscream accepted it, optics fluttering to a half shutter. The slow, shifting kisses melted him, made it all the easier for the hand on his back to draw him in, bringing him to Megatron's hard warm chest, his hands clutching the crystal trapped between them.

Megatron pulled away and Starscream stumbled into the space that suddenly manifested between them, open mouth wet and tingling, frame cold in the absence of heated touch. Megatron smirked at him, already moving away. "Goodnight, your highness."

Starscream watched him leave, stupid and hollow, throat tight. Only when the doors shut did Starscream survey the room of remaining party goers, looking for answers as to what had just happened.

What he found was Skywarp, sat at the table nearest to him, and having watched the entire thing, had the biggest grin on his face.

"Great party!" He called, lifting his cube.

 

 


	8. Someone Happy To Hit You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some physical abusive courtesy of Cloud Tread in the first half of the chapter.

"Blue," Skywarp commented, setting a magnifying lens between his optical ridges and lifting the crystal to the light - as _if_ he couldn't already see the thing well enough. "What's a blue one mean again, TC?"

"Patience." A hungover Thundecracker mumbled into the pillow on the berth behind them.

Starscream watched as Skywarp turned the crystal slowly. "It's flawless."

Starscream snorted. "I know."

"No, I mean," Skywarp plucked the lens out of his optic. "It's 'Flawless'. Perfect. Must have cost Megatron a fortune."

As he handed the weighty crystal back, Starscream found himself wondering if Megatron had paid for it in shanix or blood. He dropped back the berth, holding it to his chest, and found he didn't mind much either way. "He's giving me a second tomorrow."

"Two?!" Thundercracker's squinty face appeared from the pillow. "You can't have two, it's against-"

"Tradition?" Starscream snapped. "So is having two ceremonies. _So_ is conjunxing outside the high-caste. The palace only cares about traditions when it suits them."

Starscream let his fingers play around the delicately cut edges of it, knowing he would have to hide it before Cloud Tread found it. The colour of the crystal given on the day of a union symbolised the defining trait of the relationship. Blue for 'patience' was probably the best Starscream could have hoped for. He wondered if Megatron had known it's meaning, or had just liked the colour?

He wondered if he'd be getting another blue one tomorrow.

His wistful musing over the crystal and the ceremony and Megatron kissing him were rudely interrupted by loud and forceful knocking. Starscream sat up in a fright.

" _Starscream!_ " A voice shouted through the door between the thudding. " _We know you're in there!"_

"Oh crud, it's Cloud Tread!" Skywarp hissed, as if Starscream hadn't already realised. "Hide!"

"I can't hide!" Starscream hissed back, panicked by Skywarp's panic as he hastily untangled himself from the berth and Thundercracker, who was in a _complete state_ and incapable of doing much but groaning in pain over the noise drumming through his processor. "They know I'm in here, and it's not like I can climb out of a nonexistent window!"

Skywarp looked between the mound of gifts, the crystal clutched in Starscream's hands, and the overcharged trine-mate on Megatron's berth.  
  
"Starscream!" Came Cloud Tread's voice through the door again. " _Now_!"

Skywarp leapt into action, snatching the crystal out of his hands.

"Hey!" Starscream protested.

Skywarp shoved it under a pillow on the berth and started yanking Thundercracker upright. "Hide the gifts!" He snapped, and Starscream realised what he was doing. _He_ couldn't hide, but everything else could.

As Skywarp shoved Thundercracker into the washroom and out of sight, Starscream started pushing and kicking the various boxes and gifts under the berth, yanking down the berth covers to hide them from view. Skywarp waited until he was upright again and brushed down before unlocking the door.

Cloud Tread swept in like the ugliest beige-est storm cloud, shoving Skywarp to one side as his trine followed. His usually stoically disapproving face was twisted into a disgusted sneer. He paused before Starscream, EM field unguarded and sizzling with energy. His optics flicked to the dishevelled berth behind Starscream. They narrowed. 

The next thing Starscream knew he'd been smacked across the face, helm knocked to the side with the force of the blow, cheek stinging. He lifted a hand to it but his wrist was caught and squeezed. "You little slut." Cloud Tread sneered.

Behind him, a cursing Skywarp had been restrained by Cloud Tread's trine.

"Is _this_ where you've been all day?" Cloud Tread shook him, dragging his attention back. Starscream was too stunned and reeling from the blow to think to yank himself free. He wasn't often hit, and never somewhere it would show. Cloud Tread squeezed harder. "Answer me."

"I-"

"He hasn't done anything, you big prude!" Skywarp yelled.

"Where's your other trine-mate?" Cloud Tread demanded.

Starscream didn't answer, flinching back when Cloud Tread moved like he was going to hit him again. "Find him." Cloud Tread turned to address his trine instead. "They're a terrible influence. I want them removed."

"You can't-"

Cloud Tread squeezed his wrist until armour crumpled and Starscream gasped. "And _you_ are one wrong step away from being removed as well. If Megatron continues to show such disregard for our wishes perhaps we'll give you to someone with more appreciation for tradition. The Autobots, perhaps? Our airforce just might be the boost they need to win this war. Sentinel Prime has several consorts already, but I'm sure he'd be happy to add a seeker to his collection."

Starscream stopped pulling against Cloud Tread's grip, spark twisting unpleasantly as he realised how many threats they still had to dangle in front of him. He said nothing as they dragged Skywarp from the room.

Once they were alone, Cloud Tread slowly released him. Starscream quickly moved away, rubbing his wrist.

"You are fortunate I've been given sufficient evidence to prove Megatron has taken up residence elsewhere." Cloud Tread sniffed, glancing at the hand he'd used to smack him. Starscream hoped it stung even just half as much as his cheek did. "And that recharging in his berth is _all_ you've done."

Starscream's stared, "So you _knew_ I'd done nothing to sully my 'precious innocence'?! You _hit_ me!"

"Someone had to remind you of your place." Cloud Tread took a step closer. Starscream shuffled back, furious and embarassed that he had no way of defending himself. His nullray and dagger still sat in their boxes, squirrelled away under his berth.

Cloud Tread looked him up and down, tutting disapprovingly. "You need to clean yourself up before tomorrow. And get that dent removed from your face. Lord Megatron isn't going to want a half battered conjunx."

Cloud Tread turned to leave.

"And what happens when you're not around to hit me anymore?" Starscream called before he could leave. "Are you going to make special trips down from Vos just to _keep_ 'putting me back in my place'?"

Cloud Tread shrugged, unbothered. "I'm sure I won't need to. So long as you keep running that mouth of yours, there'll always be _someone_ happy to hit you, Starscream."

And with that, Cloud Tread left. Starscream stared at the door, cheek stinging as much as his optics were. He heard the door to the washroom creak open and arms wrapped around his middle, Thundercracker clumsily embracing him. Starscream didn't hug back.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't so much luck that Megatron came across the attempted ejection of Skywarp from his fortress, but by virtue of him possessing working audials. There were several reports of a ruckus down in the entry bay, and several more of 'snotty seekers' bullying his guards. Megatron took a wander down, curious to see what was going on and hoping, rather foolishly, that Starscream and his trine might have utilised their new weaponry to oust Cloud Tread and his trine from their lives.

It wasn't to be. He found Skywarp clinging to the frame of the entry elevator and kicking at two of the seekers Megatron commonly saw traipsing around behind Cloud Tread.

He cleared his vocaliser. They looked up in shock and Skywarp realised the frame in the same moment. They all clattered into a heap with a painful sounding crunch.

"Megatron!" Skywarp panted, scrambling to get out of the elevator and throwing himself at him.

Megatron stared at his chest full of seeker incredulously, twitching when claws sunk into armour seams and clung. "What in galaxy is going on here?!"

Skywarp's assailants began shifting their footing awkwardly, looking between one another as though silently deciding on the least damning excuse. And Megatron was going to have to take their word for it, because Skywarp looked way when he peered at him for an explanation.

"Palace orders." The braver of the two seekers finally said. "Skywarp is to return to Vos to receive new duties."

"What new duties?" Megatron pressed.

"We are not at liberty to say."

Megatron glanced down at Skywarp. Wings flicked, but the little seeker remained silent. It was obvious Skywarp did not want to go with them, but despite his vice like grip on Megatron's armour, he appeared unwilling to voice it out loud. Either way, Megatron doubted Starscream would be happy to find himself one trinemate down for the ceremony tomorrow.

"I'm sure they can wait." He decided, gently removing Skywarp's clinging arms from his chest. "Tomorrows union will be an important event in Prince Starscream's life. His trine should be with him."

The seekers glanced at each other, frowning, before they relented and let their wings drop in deference. "Yes. We're sure the palace will... understand. If those are your wishes?"

"They are." Megatron huffed, and rather than wasting any more time on them, took Skywarp by the wrist and started pulling him back towards the inner fortress.

"How do you get yourself into these situations?" He asked when they were out of audial range.

"Don't ask." Skywarp muttered grumpily.

"I take it Cloud Tread finally found your little hiding place. Is Starscream alright?"

Skywarp didn't answer, and when Megatron glanced down, he looked away again, wings low. It wasn't a good sign, and Megatron released him to quicken his stride accordingly.

"Wait!" Skywarp rushed to catch up, taking three quick steps for every one of Megatron's long strides. "He's- you know! He doesn't want to be bothered-"

"If he doesn't want to see me, he can tell me so himself."

Skywarp was obviously keen to hide something from him, so Megatron didn't bother to knock or ring the chime before barging into his own quarters. He walked in on a weary Thundercracker kneeling before Starscream, comfortingly pressing a bright blue cooling pad to his cheek.

Starscream's optics widened at his sudden appearance. He slapped Thundercracker away and snapped his head to the side, turning his head away from Megatron to hide his face. "It's- it's not-"

Megatron swept into the room and was in front of him within milliseconds. Starscream flinched away but Megatron was quicker, grabbing Starscream's wrist to stop his retreat. But he gasped in pain. Megatron released him sharply, spying the finger-shaped dents covering the delicate armour of Starscream's wrist. The cooling pad had slipped from Starscream's cheek, and as well as _another_ dent there and a swollen, split lip, there was a beige streak of paint across the dark, previously flawless armour.

Cloud Tread.

Megatron said nothing, turning and drawing his sword as strode for the door.

"Wait-" he heard Starscream scramble as after him, " _Wait_ -"

Skywarp hurried out of the doorway to let him through, but Starscream wasn't so easily cowed. He rushed out in front of Megatron and caught him not three steps into the corridor, getting in front of him and shoving him right in the chest. Megatron stumbled back, sword tip clacking against the ground.

"Move." He ordered, too angry for eloquence.

"No." Starscream was somehow just as furious. Only half his height, unarmed, and bruised, but blocking Megatron from seeking out the fool who had dared done it to him. "No. You don't get to kill him. _You_ don't get to kill any of them-"

Megatron bared his denta, hissing, "You're defending-!"

"I am not defending any of them!" Starscream's optics were bright with rage and watery with emotion, but he didn't give an inch of ground, no matter how closely Megatron loomed. "You think I've sat back and taken their slag _all my life_ just so you can swoop in at the last minute and get the satisfaction of killing them?! Just so _you_ can be the knight in shining armour?!"

Megatron huffed harshly, fist flexing around the grip of his sword. "I will not stand for it-"

"I don't _care_ what you won't stand for." Starscream jabbed him in the chest with one perfectly manicured claw. "So he hit me!? Get over it. It's not the first time. It probably won't be the last. But you don't get to 'avenge' me."

"You are my conjunx." Megatron snarled. "You expect me to do nothing?"

"I _said_ I don't care." Starscream sneered. "I don't care what you want to do and I don't care what your reasons are, if you want to protect me, or if you think you love me. I. Don't. _Care_." Starscream closed in and hissed. "You don't get to kill them. _I do_."

Megatron settled back, watching Starscream's shoulders rise and fall furiously. He wanted to storm past and right _every_ wrong that had been done by those seekers, but Soundwave _had_ told him conjunxing would involve a lot of compromise.

He sheathed his sword. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long will I have to wait for you to kill them?"

Starscream hesitated, that brilliant spark of righteous indignation extinguishing from his optics now that he was getting his way. He looked surprised. "I- I can't do anything until they finalise the alliance, and hand over the airforce. And they won't do that until I am sparked."

Megatron bent, closing in on him. He took Starscream's hand, delicately, so not to agitate the dents on his wrist. Starscream stepped closer, somehow drawn to him. "I cannot wait that long."

"We're consummating the union tomorrow." Starscream snapped, hand limp in Megatron's. "It doesn't take long to get sparked-"

"I am not sparking you on the cusp of war." Megatron rumbled.

Starscream's optics flared, "But this _entire arrangement_ -!"

"Is a ridiculous farce." Megatron shook his head, "All they want out of this union is for us to produce a Vosian sparkling with rights to the Decepticon throne. Don't give them what they want-"

"If they don't get that heir, then you'll never get your airforce!" Starscream sneered, snatching his hand away. "And they won't let you keep me."

He pushed past him, moving back to the room.

"Is that what you want?" Megatron called after him. "To be given to someone else?"

"No," Starscream smirked nastily over his shoulder. "I can't be sure anyone else will be as easy to manipulate as you."

He winked and shut the door. Megatron shifted, warm under his armour and frustrated by urges that weren't just murderous now.

Little brat. He'd show him who was easy to manipulate.

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread was displeased to find Thundercracker and Skywarp still loitering about his victim (or charge, or whatever Starscream even was to him these days) but it was difficult for him to kick up much of a fuss without getting into an active pissing contest with Megatron over it, who had, as far as Starscream could tell, insisted on their presence. He was also fairly confident Cloud Tread knew standing within three feet of Megatron and attempting a conversation with him in a room without sufficient witnesses would mean forfeiting his own head.

Nice to see the old mech had his uses.

The day was long for Starscream, starting even earlier for the hour he had to spend in Knock Out's medbay getting the dents removed from his face and wrist. The medic worked silently, mouth pressed into a hard thin line. Starscream didn't give him any opening to discuss what might have caused the damage.

"I could wire those nullrays to your frame for you?" Knock Out managed to squeeze in just before Starscream left.

"I can't be armed at my own ceremony." Starscream spat. "It would be inappropriate."

"Megatron will be. Your little gaggle of Vosian tormentors will."

"And I will not. Cloud Tread has been pushed enough for one week." Starscream turned his wrist over, considering the repaired armour. "What would I even do with them anyway? Shoot Cloud Tread from the altar in front of the entire Vosian delegation?"

"Probably the fastest way to Megatron's spark." Knock Out joked.

Starscream hummed. It probably was.

The ceremony wasn't until the evening, hopefully long enough for a sobering Thundercracker to get a grip and plenty time for Starscream clean himself up. He took a lukewarm bath to rid himself of Kaon's smoggy aroma, and by then the body work specialist Cloud Tread had sent for had arrived from Vos.

Silversmith wasn't a particularly pleasant seeker, but neither was she cruel. She had worked on him for special occasions before, most memorably for his Coming Out ceremony at the palace, the day after he'd snuck out to watch the guards perform sky manoeuvres and had had his wings zapped by his minder in punishment. Silversmith had removed the scorched paint and blended in the new with the old expertly. She was a master at her trade, and most importantly, never asked questions.

After titling up his face up and swiping dark matte paint across his bottom lip, hiding the tiny weld Knock Out had left from the repairs that morning, she should have been done. But she removed a new paint cartridge from her subspace and loaded into a spray gun. It was lilac.

"Your new conjunx has no sense of style." She said.

Starscream blinked, surprised to hear her speak. He didn't think he'd ever heard her voice before. "...I know."

"He took me aside when I arrived. Had a special request."

A 'special request'? Starscream stared, wondering what horrible thing Megatron might have asked for. Primus, he hoped it wasn't some Tarnish tramp stamp across the small of his back, or some sort of gaudy embellishment to his nether regions. "What?"

She held up a stencil, and Starscream recognised the design easily. He'd been staring at it all week. "Where do you want it? Your trine picked their wings."

So Megatron had slapped them on Thundercracker and Skywarp as well. He couldn't imagine they kicked up much of a fuss. He sighed. "Does it have to be purple? It'll clash."

She nodded. "It has to be purple."

 

* * *

 

  
Stuffy Vosian tradition meant the damn ceremony would last for hours. Megatron had only been in the throne room for half and hour and it already felt like a lifetime. He stood by the hastily erected altar before the throne, having been polished, and oiled, and waxed within an inch of his life, and had to act interested and involved every time Soundwave leant in to slyly pass on the designation and _point_ of the next politician/scumbag flouncing into his fortress because they were _allies_ and this was an _event_.

The only improvement was how Cloud Tread was keeping his distance, positioned close to the doors (for a quick escape if need be) and fawning over some senator from Terasus, nose and wings high, laugh cultured and airy. If Megatron didn't need to worry about marring the shine of his knuckles he would have marched over and punched him in the face, audience be damned.

It was painful, but tolerable, until the Helex delegation arrived. Megatron instantly tried to step out of place, but Soundwave caught his arm and twisted him back around, just in time to grit his denta and nod welcomingly at the most obnoxious of Helex's three leaders; Seizer.

"Megatron," he drawled, yellow optics narrow and face smug. "You clean up nicely. A far cry from your days slumming it in the arena. Or is this the influence of your new seeker? He's rather _something_ , though I hear he's a handful."

It was like he was talking about an unbroken _pet_. Megatron felt his optic twitch. "And how are the fights these days, Seizer?" He snarled, detesting even the attempt at small talk. "Run out of unarmed Autobots to slag in front of the crowds yet?"

Seizer smiled like it was a joke, "Neutrals do just as well when we're running short."

He swanned off to find somewhere to _lounge_ , and it took Megatron a full minute to remember how to unclench his fists. "Put him on 'The List'." he muttered to Soundwave.

"He is already on your To Kill list." Soundwave reminded him.

"Then move him _higher_." Megatron sighed, surveying the decadent mass of scum filling his throne room. "This room is full of people I hate."

Soundwave stared at him.

"Asides from you." He amended. "How long is Starscream going to be? He is half my size, it can't possibly take this long to polish him."

"You are nervous." Soundwave observed.

Megatron straightened in offence. "Don't be ridiculous. Nothing about this situation warrants feeling nervous. Besides, he is already my conjunx."

Soundwave looked at him but didn't say anything. Megatron didn't like the unspoken sass being projected his way. He was about to make up some excuse to leave the throne room just to escape the seated crowd of politicians and royalty and lazy wannabe rulers and get some air, when finally the doors at the opposite end of the throne room opened.

Megatron looked up when Starscream stepped in, flanked by his trine, glowing in the lowlights and wings fanned wide, two purple insignias marking their centre. His throat tightened at the sight, and when Starscream's dark helm lifted and smouldering optics met his, he swallowed.

Perhaps he was nervous, but what sane mech wouldn't be when such an otherworldly beauty stepped into the room and looked at them like that?

 


	9. A Megatron-Thing

The ceremony lasted several painful hours, most of it spent listening to the droning voice of the sky-priest reciting nonsense in the large, echoing throne room, broken only by the occasional cough and shifting of armour in seats. It was joyless and cold, and the only warmth Megatron felt was when Starscream looked to him to steal a glance, optics large and shy and hopeful. Megatron wanted to push the sky-priest off the altar and sweep Starscream into a kiss right then and there, vows be damned.

When the sky-priest finally shut up, Starscream recited vows about honouring, and obeying, and remaining loyal to him 'till the light of his spark extinguished from this world'. Rather dramatic, and they were very different to the vows Megatron had been instructed to learn; cherishing and protecting, and no mention of eternal loyalty. When it was his turn to speak he stared into Starscream's bored, pouting little face, and found himself smirking through the last of them. He realised whatever he could come to expect of Starscream in this union of theirs, honour, obedience, and loyalty, would be the least of it.

After the vows, they signed the sky-priest's certificates, and they were conjunx enduras under Vosian law. That was it. It was as stale and emotionless as he'd feared it would be.

He wanted to lean down and steal a kiss, but optics were everywhere, and public displays of affection such as that were inappropriate in Vosian culture. The most he would be permitted was hold Starscream's hand, so he did. It was clammy and cold in his, so he gripped it tight, rubbing his thumb over delicate digits to warm them as they stood and listened to the approaching crown of near-strangers begin congratulating them.

Every so often Starscream's hand would twitch in his grasp, whenever stuffy, older seekers stopped to smile and compliment Starscream in tones that sounded genuine to Megatron's untrained audials. There was a sort of tension between them he was unfamiliar with, and though Starscream smiled back and oh so politely thanked them, Megatron wanted nothing more than to pull him away from them.

An excuse arrived to do just that when Soundwave appeared beside the doors, holding the silver box Megatron had entrusted him with locating.

"Come." He murmured to Starscream, pulling him away from a pair of hot-pink seekers lecturing him on being a 'good' conjunx. Starscream came gladly.

Megatron took the box from Soundwave carefully, briefly worrying at it's hinges, before deciding to just pass it to Starscream and hope for the best. It was somewhat stressful to watch a smirk pull at Starscream's mouth as he released his grip on Megatron's hand to open it.

"Another crystal?" He purred in faux-surprise, giddy and playful as he opened it. "Why Megatron, you shouldn't ha-"

Starscream stopped, smirk slipping away when the vibrant crimson of the crystal inside illuminated his face in red, putting the glow of his optics too shame.

Megatron stepped closer, driven by unfamiliar nerves to ask, "You don't like it?"

"Red?" Starscream mumbled, digit hovering over it as if afraid to touch it. "...Do you know what the colours mean? When you pick these crystals?"

"There are differences to their symbolic meaning across cultures." Megatron murmured, because although they didn't give crystals as conjunxing gifts in Tarn, they _did_ give them, not at the start of a relationship, but to mark milestones.

"I was taught the deeper the red, the deeper the ' _passion'_." Starscream commented, lifting the crystal out of it's box, and though it gave off a vibrant red glow, the crystal itself was a very deep crimson, near black, just as Megatron had asked for.

"My, my, Megatron." He whispered, optics glazing over as though hypnotised by the jewell. "It seems you've fallen for my charms after all."

Megstron looked pointedly at wings and the purple insignias now embellishing them. "Perhaps not just your 'charms'..."

Starscream put the crystal back and snapped the box shut, blinking himself back to the present to frown at something over Megatron's shoulder. "A friend of yours?"

Megatron turned to see Seizer cutting through the guests towards them. He looked for Soundwave, hoping for an interception, but realised he was alone. "Brace yourself." He muttered to Starscream.

"Ah," Seizer opened his arms wide at the sight of them. "The happy couple."

He bowed over Starscream's hand, taking it and tugging him close to press what must have been a wet, unpleasant kiss to the back of his fingers if the sneer on Starscream's face was any measure of it. "Starscream, dear. Believe it or not, but we've met before."

" _Prince_ Starscream." Starscream corrected coldly, showing no recognition. He wiped the back of his hand on Megatron's hip plating. "You'll have to forgive my memory. You revolutionary leaders come and go so often it's hard to remember who is who."

Megatron wondered if that had been a dig at him too, but was able to keep the frown from his face for the simple joy of watching Seizer's smug smirk twitch. "Seizer, of Helex." He introduced himself. "We met at the Winglord's Equinox Ball two centuries ago? We danced together."

Starscream hummed, head tilting playfully. "Oh yes, _I_ remember now. The clumsy mining-class who pawed at my wings?"

Seizer smiled at the recognition, then seemed to realise that what he'd said had been anything but complimentary. Optics brightened in alarm. "Well, I-"

"Goodbye, Seizer." Megatron had heard enough, pushing Starscream onwards with a hand on the small of his back, moving them out of range before he lost the tentative hold on his fraying temper and decided to rip Seizer's fingers off.

Another group of politicians began to approach now that they were free, and with the fleeting moment privacy they had left, Megatron peered down to ensure Starscream was alright. And found the little upstart _smirking_.

"Did he really touch you? When you met?"

"Probably." Starscream shrugged, "Nearly everyone does."

Megatron looked at the hand he had resting on Starscream's lower back, and ashamedly began to lift it away. Starscream caught his wrist. "Not _you_." He scoffed. "You're allowed to."

"Not if you-"

"You're _allowed_ to." Starscream said through his grimacing smile, very firmly placing his arm around his back in a half embrace. "This," he gestured between them. "Needs to look good. So look happy."

Starscream started up small talk with next group of guests, but Megatron struggled. He glanced across the room and saw Cloud Tread, watching Starscream's every move with his trine from the sidelines. He tightened his arm around his new conjunx, pulling him closer to his side, and hoped the scowl he wore communicated effectively enough just what he thought of them. And what he would do if they so much as laid a finger on what was his. 

 

* * *

 

Megatron collected Thundercracker and Skywarp before leaving the throne room and allowing the 'celebrations' to continue on without them. It riled Starscream's preened, glossy armour. This was supposed to be the _private_ part of the evening, just himself, Megatron, and the unpleasantness of the task the palace demanded of them.

Perhaps the arrogant fool thought a trine was some sort of package deal and he'd be bedding all three of them tonight? Ha! 

Watching them, neither appeared particularly bothered or confused that Megatron was herding them along too. They looked eager even, flashing Starscream encouraging, excited looks. Starscream sneered back, annoyed at how nicely those purple insignias on their wings went with their bodywork, whereas he was looking like a mismatched fool...

He was no less confused when Megatron didn't take them back to his room to have his way with them, bringing them to the medbays instead. Starscream hesitated, recalling nasty rumours and threats he'd been told about how some lower-caste cultures treated conjunxs like possessions, had them tagged with tracking chips to stop them running away.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were steered off into separate bays with their own medics. Megatron stayed with him to guide him into his own-

And relief washed over him when there was Knock Out, holding one of his gifted nullrays between his hands. He whistled low and appreciatively when their optics met. "Look at _you_. You're a real Decepticon now." He said, winking at Starscream's insignias.

"Knock Out." Megatron's gruff voice vibrated over Starscream's head. "It's been a long day. I'm sure Starscream would appreciate you keeping chat to a minimum."

"My apologies, my liege." Knock Out bowed his head, sounding cheeky when he mimed pulling a zip across his mouth. "Consider it zipped."

Megatron nodded, turning, but paused to consider Starscream before leaving. "Come to me when you're finished here."

Starscream's legs felt wobbly, like someone had removed his knees. "In your room?"  
  
"Our room." Megatron corrected, and with that swept out.

"Sounds like you've a fun evening planned." Knock Out, despite his promises, immediately started talking. "You did tell him? Didn't you? About not having seals?"

Starscream hoisted himself onto the medberth and positioned his arms for Knock Out to work on them. "Just attach the damn guns."

Knock Out sighed, swiftly retracting arm plating to get at the wires he needed. "That's a firm 'no' then. I'll keep my morning open for you, for when you inevitably come wobbling back here with a sore-"

" _Don't_." Starscream cut across him. "Don't make me come back here and use these weapons you're so kindly fitting me with."

Knock Out's lips pursed together. "Whatever you say, your highness. Oh, or is it your _lordship_ now?"

"I'm still a prince." Starscream muttered. "Conjunxing Megatron doesn't entitle me to his imaginary, made-up rank. I wouldn't be a 'lord' unless the Winglord abdicates his power and hands it back to the royal house. Which isn't going to happen."

Knock Out was quiet for a moment. Starscream hoped that meant he'd shut up, but it appeared he'd only been thinking. "But you're the only 'royal'?"

"Yes."

"What happened to the prince before you?"

"My creator?" Starscream said, staring at the ceiling. "Deactivated in some tragic accident. Never knew him."

Truth be told, he'd never known him because he hadn't been allowed to. All he had ever known were the palace minders and the council that gave them their orders. In theory, he probably had a sire, but Primus knew who _that_ was. No one the palace considered important enough to mention. It didn't matter much to him. He'd long since given up on childish fantasies of loving guardians. He could only hope that his own heir would know something better.

Knock Out didn't press for more information, perhaps uncomfortable with the subject matter. No one ever wanted to discuss dead parents. It was fine by Starscream. He preferred the silence.

 

* * *

 

Starscream shuffled before the door to Megatron's quarters, the weight of the weapons now a part of his frame unfamiliar and bulky. He felt wider wearing them, and wasn't sure if he liked the idea of being armed. He didn't know how to aim them, and was concerned that he couldn't just take them off without a medic's assistance. What if he fired them in his sleep?

Oh well, if he shot Megatron it wouldn't be too much of a loss he supposed.

He stared at the door, and it seemed to grow before his very eyes, stretching towards the ceiling as this imposing obstacle. It was only an interface, he told himself. From what Thundercracker had told him it wouldn't last long, that it might hurt but he'd endured worse, and that there were far crueller mechs than Megatron to lie with.

Still, he hesitated, not necessarily just with fear. A vain, prideful part of him wanted to gather his wits about him and _impress_ Megatron, stride into the room brimming with confidence and blow him away. He wanted so desperately to be something other than an awkward virgin.

He wanted to be desired. He wanted to be _wanted_. 

He took a deep breath, and stepped in.

Megatron was on the berth, atop the covers with his back resting against the wall, his long, long legs stretched out beneath him and crossed at the ankles. He held a datapad just inches from his own nose, squinting face illuminated by the orange glow of the screen.

"You need glasses." Starscream said in lieu of a greeting.

Megatron looked up, thumb switching off the datapad. He lowered it to let his optics track up and down Starscream's frame. Starscream shuffled at the inspection, but had nothing to hide behind.

"How are they?" Megatron asked.

Starscream blinked, realising with a flash of heat that Megatron hadn't been giving him the lecherous once over, but had been considering his gift; the weapons.

"These?" Starscream blurted, flinging his arms out like he intended to take off in bipedal mode. He quickly realised how ridiculous he looked and dropped them to his sides again. "They will take some getting used to." He answered honestly.

Megatron accepted that with an understanding nod, making a spinning gesture with his hand. "Are you going to give me a twirl?"

Without even considering that it could be a joke intended to lighten the mood, Starscream recalled how his minders would inspect him like that before a public outing, pestering him onto a pedestal and twisting him this way and that, tutting judgmentally at invisible imperfections until he felt small and ugly.

"No." He snapped. 

Megatron didn't push it, dropping his gaze with a not-quite-sigh and switching the datapad back online.

Starscream was unsure what he was expected to do now. If he was take up a position on the berth or wait to be invited? Every fantasy (nightmare) he'd had of his first time began with being grabbed or swept up or pinned down. If Megatron was waiting for _him_ to fling himself at him, he'd be waiting a long time. 

His heels scuffed the floor and Megatron looked up again, attention caught by the awkward shuffling.

He drew back a corner of the covers and let one leg slip off the side of the berth to rise from it. "I can read this elsewhere, if you'd like to recharge?"

Starscream pressed his lips together, confused that he would offer to leave.

"It's the evening of our ceremony." He reminded him, having to speak loudly from so far across the room.

"And I've lost two cycles planning time already." Megatron murmured into his datapad, missing the point by such a wide margin he might as well have been stood in the next galaxy over. "This needs to be done tonight. We leave in the morning."

"We?" Starscream approached the berth, tentatively, half expecting something to leap out and ensnare him. Megatron shifted aside to give him room, and he sat on the very edge, hands placed neatly in his lap, just how he had always been taught to sit, small and inconsequential.  

"Yes 'we'. I trust that won't be a problem." Megatron swiped the datapad to change the document. "Unless you have business elsewhere that would prevent you from coming?"

Of course he didn't. He frowned. "Well, no-"

"Then you're coming." Megatron said with a note of distant authoritative _finality_. "I won't leave you here for those psychopaths to play with."

Starscream smacked the datapad out of his grip. Megatron stared at his empty hand, incredulous.

"I am _not_ a _victim_." Starscream hissed, claws cutting into his own palms. "I am _not_ their _plaything_ -"

Megatron lifted his gaze from his empty palm, jaw set and optics hard. "I did not say you were either of those things."

"You implied it."

"All I 'implied' was that I did not trust your brethren-"

"They're not my brethren." Starscream abandoned poise and grace and rose onto his knees to gain a height advantage as he thrust his finger at Megatron's face. "There is no connection there save the one the palace forced on me. I hate them."

Megatron stared at the end of his finger. It was inches from his nose. 

"...Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" His tone was confused, but littered with amusement, and it was _infuriating_.

"I not picking anything!  _You_ started this!" Starscream jabbed his digit forward again.

"I started nothing." No longer tolerating being pointed at so violently, Megatron caught his extended digit in his huge hand, and didn't let go when Starscream panicked and tried to veer away.

"I - I can't just run away from them- _this_ -" Starscream tried to tear himself free.

"You're not running away." Megatron soothed, sitting up and drawing him closer. A hand on his hip tipped him so he fell sideways into Megatron's lap. He caught himself against a huge chest, hand flush to the insignia at it's centre. Megatron radiated heat, and power, and this exotic, rough, _dominance_ that was everything Starscream had been raised to think was beneath him.

He inhaled sharply at their sudden proximity, and Megatron's aroma flooded his olfactory; iron, and masculinity, and a 'hard days work', and suddenly everything else was swept away. Starscream's turmoiling processor emptied itself of all logical thought and fear.

Megatron noticed. He released his finger and tipped his vacant, stupidly staring face up, thumb and forefinger pinching his narrow chin. "Think of this as a well deserved break."

"...To where?" Starscream remembered how to work his tongue and asked softly, trapped by Megatron's gaze as much as he was the fingers around his jaw. He wanted to fall into Megatron, succumb to his natural, effortless authority.

Megatron brushed his thumb over his bottom lip, and he was so close Starscream could feel warm breath against his cheeks. "It's a surprise." He smirked.

Starscream nodded dumbly, squirming and shuddering when their noses brushed, wanting so badly for Megatron to just kiss him.

"I- I don't like surprises." He swallowed, mentally clawing for control. And failing. "How do I know you won't be taking me to an open war zone?"

"I'm sure you can handle yourself." Megatron's trailed fingers up his arm where the nullray rested, leaving tingling armour in his wake. "But no. Bloodshed is the final ritual."

"Ritual?" Starscream shuffled a little to hide a shiver, making himself more comfortable in Megatron's lap without thinking too hard that he was _in Megatron's lap_ , choosing to focus on the conversation to keep his processor ticking over and not just melt.

"Four rituals to prove my commitment." Megatron elaborated, playing with the armour of his wrist.

"I thought you already had?" Starscream thought of the crystals, blue and red. Red. Red for passion.

"It's an older tradition." Megatron shrugged, "One most see as frivolous and unnecessary."

"But not you."

"I did." Megatron admitted, "When this was just a political union."

"And it's not - _just_ \- anymore?" Starscream felt himself getting sucked in again, swaying closer.

Megatron didn't answer, gaze flicking between his lips and back again.

"Kiss me." Starscream prompted, provocatively nudging closer, thinking he was going to _burst_ if he didn't. "Just _kiss_ me, you cowa-"

Megatron used that grip on his chin to his advantage and tugged him the last inch.

It was no dreadfully smooth, taunting kiss- like they had shared the day before. Now Megatron seemed to have something to prove and was determined to take it out on Starscream's lips and tongue and airways. Megatron turned onto his side and tipped Starscream out of his lap, twisting and suspending himself above him, kissing him into the berth, lips parting for a split second before realigning and coming together with a growl.

Shocked to find himself so suddenly under twenty-something tonnes of scorching hot (in more ways than one) warlord, Starscream made a noise somewhere between a squeak of surprise and a snort of indignation. Combined, it wasn't an attractive noise, even muffled by the tongue so expertly sliding past his lips.

He had _never_ been kissed like it before -even in his youth, overcharged on high-grade and bad decisions with Skywarp. He convulsed at the first touch of tongue, responding clumsily to the slick, twisting kiss, wondering if it was a _Tarnish-thing_ or a _Megatron-thing_ and which would be worse knowing how weak it made him, melting him from the core outwards until he was little more than a pliable puddle for Megatron to play with. The taste he left in his mouth was metallic and intoxicating and he wanted more...

But Megatron drew back, nose nudging his, and Starscream blinked at the ceiling, lips wet and tank clenching. A thumb brushed his cheek.

"It's late," Megatron murmured, and finding his datapad amongst the sheets, he lifted it, showing his intention to return to work. "I don't want to disturb you."

He rolled away, and with a sudden, frightened jolt. Starscream snatched his wrist. " _No_. Stay."

Megatron paused, conflicted and unsure. "I know what you have been taught to expect, but I have no desire to-"

"I'm not going to jump you in your sleep!" Starscream scowled, amazed that this conversation would be _this_ way around. "But what sort of mech leaves his conjunx in bed alone on their first night together?"

Tugging on his sense of duty and honour seemed enough to win Megatron over. With a grunt, he settled down, flicking the datapad to a side table and abandoning all hope of finishing whatever he'd been working on. Starscream watched him roll onto his front, an avalanche of heavy silver armour. Huge arms slipped under the pillow he dropped his large head to.

"Happy?" He huffed, breath wafting the thread bare sheets.

Starscream scooted closer, close enough to soak in the heat Megatron's large, dated frame radiated. Smouldering optics watched from above the pillow, like a cyber-cat would watch it's prey through the long grass. But Starscream wasn't frightened. He lifted a hand to the huge wall of armour that was Megatron's back, playing with the seam between his shoulder blades where wings would have joined if he had been a seeker. Megatron didn't move away from the contact, and Starscream watched optics dim as he relaxed into it.

"Yes," he said, running his fingers up and down his back. "For now."

Megatron's optics fluttered offline, soothed by the gentle touch. Starscream continued to stroke him as he would have a trine-mate, knowing little other way to strengthen a bond. He listened as Megatron's soft ex-vents slowed to a recharging pace, and thought, maybe they weren't so different after all.

 


	10. No Love Left For Opera

The sound of an un-oiled door creaking on it's track woke Starscream. His head shot up from it's pillow, bleary optics searching for the disturbance and trying to make sense of why the berth he was in was empty, but still warm.

"Thank you." He heard Megatron at the door, in the process of accepting a large screwed up bundle of fabric from a blushing Decepticon. The mech didn't seem keen on sticking around for a conversation, and fled as soon as the fabric had left his grasp.

Starscream rose onto his elbows when Megatron turned around, scrubbing at his face to wake himself up, hoping he didn't look as confused and half-dead as he always felt first thing in the morning.

"You're awake." Megatron commented, strolling over without a care in the world. Obvious to the bottomless pit of dread forming where Starscream fuel tank should have been. 

"We didn't interface." Starscream blurted with a swooping, sickening clench of his spark. Cloud Tread would send someone to check up on them before long. Megatron had agreed to their conditions, that the palace would be allowed to seek proof that the union was legitimate, that it had been consummated.

"Idiot." He hissed, to himself as well as Megatron. "How am I going to _explain_ -"

"You won't need to explain anything." Megatron dumped the bundle of fabric on the berth next to him. "They'll never know."

"They'll inspect the sheets."

"Not those sheets." Megatron nodded to the berth padding under Starscream's aft, and patted the bundled fabric confidently. "I have taken care of it."

Starscream squinted with bleary half-focused optics, and realised with a jolt of revulsion that the sheets Megatron had taken off their caller were _used_. He could see the stains. He scrambled to put distance between himself and it, fearing it could be contagious. Primus knew what sort of virus's the average Kaonite's had.

"Where did you- whose _are_ those?!"

"I asked around." Megatron explained calmly, and that didn't really answer anything. Starscream didn't want to know what the rank-and-files got up to with one another in the dead of night.

Still, this was a short term solution, at best. He stared at his knees, cursing himself for falling asleep. He should have _seduced_ Megatron. That was his whole purpose here.

Megatron didn't let him dwell on it for long at any rate.

"Up," he ordered, and it was his only warning before he grasped the end corner of the top sheet Starscream was reclined on and tugged. Starscream jumped and rolled out of the berth, unused to being so rudely shifted. Megatron swept the sheets up and threw the 'new' used ones over the berth in their place. Starscream grimaced at the large glimmering stain in the middle.

He wondered if it was still damp, but he wasn't about to reach out and check.

"We leave in ten." Megatron said, bundling up the original sheets and heading for the door. They were probably destined for a furnace. Best way to get rid of the evidence. Starscream wouldn't put anything past Cloud Tread. Least of all dumpster diving.

"Wait," his processor caught up with what Megatron had said. "We leave in ten? Ten minutes?"

Megatron shrugged a shoulder as he passed through the doorway. "Better to get off early. It's a long day."

"Slag." Starscream hissed when the door shut. Ten minutes to ready himself to face the world?! Megatron clearly had no comprehension nor appreciation for the amount of work that went into maintaining _this_ , or that it took him so much longer when he had to improvise with inadequate supplies.

He climbed into a half filled, cold bath, spitting and hissing in irritation, using some of the solvent he'd been gifted to rinse away the grim of Kaon and the general Megatron-ish aroma he'd acquired from a night spent cuddled up with him in the berth- big arms around his waist, a mouth on his neck, hands on his wings.

The water wasn't cold enough to ward off the flush that warmed his frame.

It wouldn't have minded an extra fifteen minutes alone just to do some shamelessly unspeakable things to himself to soothe away the inconveniently insistent sense of _want_ he'd begun to suffer these past few days.

He was still sat in his bath, staring off into space as he thought a little too vividly on how good those big fingers of Megatron's might feel in unmentionable places when-

"Ready?" Megatron asked from the doorway.

Starscream shrieked, jumping so violently half the bath's water splashed up against the sides and spilled over the edge. The other half came back in a large wave and hit him in the face. He rose spluttering and heaving, griping the edge of the tub to pull himself up, grasping blindly for the towel he'd set out to dry himself with. His hand slapped wetly against a wall of thick armour instead, and he gasped again to find Megatron right next to the tub, leaning down to help him.

"Stop it!" He flapped his arms around madly. "What are you doing?!"

"What are _you_ doing?" Megatron countered with a smug looking smirk. "I said ten minutes. It's been half an hour, and here I find you day dreaming-"

"I was not!" Starscream snapped, and hauled himself to his pedes. His thruster skidded on the slick bottom of the bath and he almost fell again, which completely undermined his vengeful scowl. Megatron reached to help him.

"Get off!" Starscream snarled, wrenching his arm free and clambering out of the bath, feeling like a drowned cyber-rat as his drenched armour gushed water that pooled on the floor around their pedes. He flicked a wet hand at Megatron for no reason but spite. Megatron flinched when the water splattered across his face.

When he blinked his optics online again, he was considerably less amused.

"Five minutes." He ordered.

"Ten." Starscream sniffed, stepping past him.

"Five. Or I'll sling you over my shoulder and carry you out to the transport."

Starcream spark _thunked_.

He whipped around, wings flicking water. " _I_! Am a _Prince_! And you'll do no such-!"

Megatron caught him around the middle and pulled him to his front, wet cockpit to warm abdomen. A mouth falling to his was all it took for oblivion to sweep through his processor and clear it of agitation.

It was a long, wet, twisting kiss, like the one Megatron had overwhelmed him with just the night before. Starscream made a weak noise and could do little more than ground himself by looping arms around a thick neck and letting himself be guided through to it's natural conclusion.

Megatron pulled back. And Starscream was left stood there, cold and wet and dazed, as a thumb brushed his bottom lip. Megatron smirked.

"Fine." He purred, "Ten minutes."

He left, and Starscream spent so long wondering what had just happened that he completely forgot to use that extra time and ended up having to jog to the flight hanger anyway, still drying the seams of the his armour.

 

* * *

 

When he arrived in the fortress's hanger, it appeared he needn't have rushed after all.

"A momentary delay." Soundwave informed him when he approached the rusty bucket of bolts that was the troop transport they were using to travel. "Last minute additions to the party."

He swept an arm out and there, to Starscream's horror, stood Cloud Tread and cronies, lurking in the shadows beneath the transport's wing. Flabbergasted at the sheer _nerve_ of them, Starscream moved towards them, ignoring the hand Soundwave reached out with to try and stop him.

"Ah, Starscream." Cloud Tread tilted his arrogant face back to look down his nose at him. "You're late. I trust last night was not too toiling?"

Starscream ignored _that_ pleasant little comment. "I don't recall my _conjunx endura_ inviting you, Cloud Tread." He began stiffly, as polite as he could manage. "Here to see us off?"

"Your 'conjunx' may have the power to order you about, Starscream, but us. I do not need his permission to travel with my _charge_." Cloud Tread looked him up and down, as though Starscream was something to be ashamed off. "I take no enjoyment in joining you on this impromptu trip you've decided to spring on us, but given the abnormal nature of your 'relationship', I have no choice."

Starscream sneered, barely resisting a eye roll. "' _Abnormal nature_?'" What are you blathering on about? If he's 'abnormal' because he can stand to be in the same room with me without beating me to a bloody pulp-"

"Be _silent_." Cloud Tread snapped, perhaps because he was sensible enough not to want that little tidbit getting out amongst the Decepticons. "Your 'conjunx' has been flagrantly ignoring our traditions."

"Stop saying 'conjunx' like that." Starscream muttered, annoyed by the sarcasm. Worried by it. That Cloud Tread wasn't taking the union seriously.

The older seeker ignored him. "Just look what he's done to you. Arming you like a common grunt-"

Starscream glanced at his nullrays, "They're for my protection." ( _And I cannot wait to shoot **you** with them_, he thought privately.)

"It is _his_ duty to protect you." Cloud Tread swept a hand through the air dramatically - and like he gave a flying scraplet about Starscream's protection. "Before we know it, you'll be sporting battle armour and be covered in repair welds."

"Oh, _Primus forbid_ ," Starscream ground out, turning away and stomping off in search of someone _sane_ , leaving Cloud Tread to his petty complaints.

He made it three steps back towards Soundwave before he was accosted from the side by a pair of arms and wide grin.

"Skywarp!" He hissed, half choked by the arm around his neck.

"Sorry," Skywarp pulled back, looking him up and down awkwardly. "Sensitive, huh?"

Starscream wasn't sure what he meant by that at first. Then Skywarp started winking with far too much enthusiasm and Thundercracker sighed and rolled his optics in second-hand embarrassment and _oh_ , that was what they meant.

"I didn't-" Starscream looked back and saw Cloud Tread glaring at them. He took Skywarp by the wing and gestured for Thundercracker to follow, moving to a less occupied corner of the flight hanger, as far from Cloud Tread as possible.

"Nothing happened." He said.

His trine stared at him blankly.

Thundercracker's brow began to crease. "Look, it's not our business anyway, so you don't have to tell us-"

"I'm not _lying_! Nothing. _Happened_." He struggled to keep his tone even through his frustration. If Cloud Tread became interested enough, he'd want I know what they were talking about. He checked to make sure he was still by the transport.

"He- Megatron failed to _seal_ the deal." He clarified.

Skywarp huffed a laugh, "Does it matter? You ain't sealed anyways-"

"Warp." Thundercracker growled.

"Well he isn't-!"

"Are you trying to get me killed?!" Starscream hissed, nodding over his shoulder to where Cloud Tread was stood. Watching.

Skywarp frowned at the other trine, only just noticing their presence. "Hey, what're they doing here?"

"They're coming."

Skywarp's face fell. "Aw, crud."

"Can't Megatron do something?" Thundercracker scowled at them across the hanger.

"I don't even know where he is." Starscream scoffed. "He said the whole point of me coming was to get me away from them. Which worked out _wonderfully_. Useless old scrapheap he is, can he do anything right?"

Thundercracker tore his gaze away from the other trine to consider him carefully. "Screamer..." He began, sounding sly. "Are you disappointed?"

"That Cloud Tread is coming? Obviously."

"No, about last night. I thought, what with the way we were taking about it, that 'doing nothing' would have been the best case scenario?"

"Megatron refusing to spike me is not the best case scenario." Starsceram hissed quietly. "Not with Cloud Tread snooping around. Not if weeks in Megatron's berth fail to produce a sparkling. _Not_ if I get hauled back to _Vos_ because I failed at doing the _one thing_ I was sent here to do!"

"Well, he is Tarnish." Thundercracker said quietly. "Maybe it's different-"

" _How can interfacing be different_?!" Starscream snarled, feeling a little like this conversation was unhinging him. "What could possibly be confusing him about 'plugging in'?! He just said 'no'', alright?! He _turned me down_ , Thundercracker. Said he had 'no desire'." 

"No desire?!" Thundercracker frowned. "Is that why his tongue is halfway down your throat every time he see's you?"

"I'm just saying what he said!" Starscream near shrieked. 

"Well, I dunno about disappointed but he's definitely frustrated." Skywarp leant close to Thundercracker to stage-whisper.

Starscream clenched his hands into fists and breathed through his olfactory, searching for the inner calm and grace his minders had always implored him to summon. He couldn't find it, and instead could only seethe over what idiotic, useless, trine-mate's he had.

"Soundwave!" He snarled, beckoning Megatron's lieutenant over. "Where is my fool of a conjunx? Get him back here, now!"

Soundwave started at him silently and did nothing. Starscream suddenly wondered if he'd overstepped the mark. Soundwave was loyal and patient, far more so than anyone he'd met so far, but he wasn't a servant. And was too well armed to stand for the constant demands of a spoilt prince.

The staring continued, until Starscream looked aside, and muttered a reluctant, "... _Please_."

Soundwave's threatening aura seemed to recede. "Board the transport, your highness. We will be leaving shortly."

 

* * *

 

The troop transport was a long hollow shuttle, with two rows of seats lined up against the bulkheads so it's occupants had to sit staring at one another for the entire awkward journey. It was old and grey and bare. Starscream shouldn't have been surprised. Megatron didn't seem to understand the concept of luxury. That would have to change.

He took a seat towards the front of the shuttle, and didn't fail to notice or appreciate Soundwave's subtle blocking of the aisle to prevent Cloud Tread and his trine from getting any further up the ship towards him. Huffing and muttering to one another under their breaths, they were forced to sit towards the aft of the shuttle. Where the turbulence was worse, Starscream noted with private glee.

The entire shuttle bounced on it's dated suspension when Megatron finally turned up and stomped up the boarding ramp. He had to stoop where he was too tall for the cabin. He hardly spared the the palace seekers a glance when he dropped himself into the seat opposite Starscream and lounged, long legs spread out into the aisle and invading Starscream's already limited space.

"About time." Starscream muttered with an unimpressed scowl.

Megatron said nothing.

Starscream kicked his pede lightly to prompt a response, but Megatron, still stoic, only slumped further, until his large pedes were threaded between Starscream's. The brush of Megatron's toe pedes against his ankle sent tingles up his leg. He stared at his lap, the weight of Megatron's piercing gaze burning a hole into the top of his helm.

Thundercracker's elbow nudged his side and then a mouth was next to his audial. "I'm not sure I believe you did _nothing_ last night." He teased.

Starscream dared to look up with a frown, wondering what Thundercracker could mean, but ended up catching Megatron's lecherously smirking gaze by accident. He dropped his head again, cheeks on fire.

"Shut up." He hissed.

 

* * *

 

Starscream had never been to Helex. Sat at the very centre of Decepticon territory, few outsiders had. He recognised the dark silhouettes of the jagged spires that made up the skyline as they flew in, beginning their descent as soon as they crossed the borders of the polity. Blocky, unstylish, harsh buildings started passing by the view port behind Megatron's head. Starscream focused on the view to avoid meeting his gaze, hoping the heat growing in his cheeks wasn't a visible flush.

They landed in a courtyard outside a huge domed arena, the aft of the transport opening before the landing gear touched the ground. Megatron immediately rose, stomping down the aisle and striding down a barely lowered boarding ram. Starscream supposed he'd better follow, scrambling up and after him.

Helex smelt much like Kaon, but the general smog of pollution was due to overpopulation, rather than industrial manufacturing. This was the capital the Decepticons called home.

But the courtyard was empty. The lack of red carpet greeting did not go unnoticed by Starscream, but Megatron was already striding off into the arena.

"Why are we here?" Starscream rushed to draw level with him to ask. "And where is the greeting party?"

"This is a surprise visit." Megatron didn't slow his pace. "I'm here to see Siezer."

The creep from their ceremony. Wonderful.

"I thought this trip was for me." He glared.

"There will be plenty of trips for you later." Megatron was unrepentant. "This is business."

"They why did I have to come?"

"Because my business is your business."

"I'm not a Decepticon."

Megatron glanced at him. "Your wings say otherwise."

Starscream slowed and they fell out of pace. He kept behind Megatron just to glare at his back as they entered the arena and began navigating it's winding entry tunnels. When they reached a foyer, and the thrum of arena speakers and roar of a thoroughly roused crowd had grown too loud to ignore, Megatron stopped to face him.

Behind, Starcream could hear the rest of the party joining them. Soundwave strode past them both and stood just beyond Megatron. Waiting.

"Go." Megatron dismissed him with a nod of his head. "Watch the show. The private box is yours to enjoy and I'll join you as soon as I can."

"And what happened to 'your business is my business'?" Starscream ground out.

He heard a fake cough, and spied Cloud Tread looking on in disapproval. Megatron straightened to look at him, optics sparking hatefully, and patience for the palace seekers at an all time low.

Starscream poked him in the belly to regain his attention before he could do something stupid like behead someone, and stared up into his optics with as much intensity as he could muster, urging Megatron not to even say anything. Cloud Tread only needed one excuse to justify taking him away, shipping him off to Iacon or some miserable colony planet, or trading him off to someone he _knew_ was worse than Megatron.

"Don't be long." He said with gritted teeth, having to concede the disagreement with Megatron just to sate Cloud Tread's disapproval, just to be the good little conjunx they all wanted him to be.

Megatron made an aggressive noise and stepped back. He nodded to the end of the foyer, were two guards stood either side of long red velvet curtains; the staircase to the private box. Now _that_ was more like it.

"Go." he ordered, clearly irritated, and that was the only goodbye Starscream was going to get from him.

Starscream watched him go, taking Soundwave with him, leaving him and his trine with, _ugh_... Cloud Tread.

The older seekers were already striding off to the guards though, which gave Starscream a chance to loiter back with his trine before conversation became impossible under Cloud Tread's scrutinising gaze.

"What is this place?" He muttered.

"I think I heard they do sporting events here?" Skywarp offered, clearly clueless.

"It's a concert hall." Thundercracker corrected, pointing toward some of the fancy detailing on the ceiling, gold carvings of ancient Primes dancing with Primus himself. They looked old. Very old, and unkempt.

They passed through the curtains and the crowd was suddenly so loud his audials rung. "I don't think we're watching opera, Thundercracker!" He yelled to be heard.

"Do you think it's holo-ball?" Skywarp asked eagerly, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the top. And almost colliding with Cloud Tread's golden-yellow trine mate in the process. A stern glare had him backing down the stairs into Starscream.

" _Ow,_  Skywarp!" Starscream hissed when he trod on his toe pede. "Just get up there!"

Skywarp continued his climb at a much more sedate pace, but again, stopped at the top of the staircase, blocking the way. Starscream could see the moving arena spotlights shining through the seams of Skywarp's wings. He gave him a poke.

"Skywarp, move!" Thundercracker complained from the back.

"It's _definitely_ not opera, TC." Skywarp whispered, sounding awed.

Running out of patience, Starscream shoved him aside, clearing his view of the arena centre just in time to watch an aqua-green femme perform a reverse spinning kick and take the head of a red minibot clean off. The head soared through the air. Bright energon streaked across the silver floor of the arena's inner ring. The crowd surged to their feet, cheers and stamping feet deafening. 

Starscream blinked at the amount of energon that was puddling around the headless husk of the femme's opponent as she prowled the edge of the ring and riled up the crowd.

Thundercracker made a nauseous sound, quickly looking away. But Starscream couldn't, mesmerised by the show of senseless glorified violence. 

It seemed the Decepticon populous of Helex had no love left for opera.

This, was a _gladiatorial arena_.

Starscream turned to Skywarp, and grinned.

 


	11. The First Of Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific warning for violence.

Seizer had not been expecting him, which made it all the easier for Megatron to throw the mechs he had left guarding his office through the locked door to make his entrance. Seizer shot up out of his seat, dislodging the mech from his lap he had been in the middle of some questionable activity with.

"Out." Megatron stepped aside to let Seizer's terrified company flee. Soundwave slinked in behind him, sealing the doors now that they were alone.

"Megatron." The flustered Seizer swept datapads off his desk and shoved them into a drawer, which he promptly slammed and locked. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Where are the rest of your triumvirate?" Megatron demanded, since Legonis and Octus were just as useless as Seizer, and shouldn't be exempt from a visit of their own.

"They are watching the show!" Seizer explained exuberantly, trying to cover for the nervous shake to his vocaliser. He sat down behind his desk, choosing to ignore the unconscious guards Megatron had left sprawled across his floor.

"It's going to be a good one." He continued, talking fast. "The city champion is finishing tonight! They're a real showstopper. Could give even you a run for your money. In fact, why don't we-"

He began to rise, but Soundwave promptly circled the desk and pressed Seizer back into his seat. He remained behind him, looming.

"I'm not here to watch the fight, Seizer."

Seizer swallowed audibly. "Megatron," his tone turned simpering. "I assure you, I have been nothing but loyal-"

"Loyal? Perhaps." Megatron tilted his head contemplatively. "And lazy. And complacent. And decadent."

Seizer tried to stand again. "I haven't-"

Soundwave shoved him into his seat with a loud clunk.

"You have no Autobot prisoners." Megatron continued. "Because you've squandered the resources required to guard your boarders and engage with them, allowing them to slip in and out of our capitol on a whim-"

"We have prisoners-!" Seizer yelped, springing up. Soundwave shoved him down again.

"Instead you pit Decepticon against Decepticon," Megatron approached, blocking out the lighting and casting Seizer in shadow. "Slaughtering our own for mindless entertainment-"

"You- you _yourself_ were a gladiator." Seizer argued, one tiny sliver of bravery remaining. "All my fighters are willing. They want to die for the cause, it's an honour-"

"They're not dying for the _cause_ , they're dying for your entertainment!" Megatron bellowed, slamming his fist into the desk and splintering it in half. Seizer's optics near popped out of his head, but he couldn't scoot away. Not with Soundwave behind him.

"Your usefulness had long since run out." Megatron growled. "Your triumvirate is over, Seizer. I should have done this years ago."

Seizer stared up at him with huge incredulous optics. "You're _demoting_ me?! _Me_?! You can't run Helex without me. Octus and Legonis are fools. They're useless without my guidance."

"Exactly," Megatron leant back, satisfied. "Which is why none of you will rule Helex."

Seizer glared at him from behind the desk, shaking his head. "You've spent too much time away, _my lord_." He sneered. "The Decepticons here are loyal to _me_. Where I go, they go. And you've lost half your army."

Megatron let a smile pull across his lips, and it was only then that Seizer finally seemed to realise this was more than just a demotion.

 

* * *

 

Starscream might have enjoyed the show more had he not been otherwise distracted.

It was far more exhilarating to watch the live fights in person than it had been to squint at some bootleg recorded copy Skywarp smuggled into the palace when they were younger, but he felt distanced from it, the roar of the crowds dull to his audials and his spark numb to the thrilling battles occurring right under his nose.

He was sat in the front row of the box, with Thundercracker hiding behind his hands and trying to block out the entire thing and Skywarp grabbing his arm and shaking him in excitement every time something particularly gruesome occurred in the pit. But Starscream's gaze continued to wander, glancing back at the stairs to see if Megatron was making his way up. He sank further into his seat, disappointed to see the curtains at the base of the staircase unmoving.

Down in the pit some sort of melee was occurring between several Decepticons of various sizes, shapes, and altmodes. Starscream found it something of a pity, watching soldiers cut down their comrades just for the thrill of bloodshed and the brief adoration of the crowd. A green truck rammed a miner into the arena wall, and then reversed to perform a victory donut.

The crowd whooped.

Starscream sighed.

Skywarp was somewhat more taken with it- or with _one_ fighter in particular; a large femme who was less grace and skill and more brute strength and fury. She kicked a downed opponent in the gut and the force of it sent them flying, back crashing into the arena wall with a sickening crunch the microphones picked up with unnecessary clarity.

Skywarp fanned himself, one hand pressed to his chest as though to still his beating spark.

"Will you _get a grip_." Starscream muttered, watching the same femme spin and slash an unfortunate opponent's helm clean off with a bellowing battle cry. "You're acting like a brainless groupie."

"I'd be _her_ groupie any day." Skywarp pretty much salivated over her when she finished the melee in style, her final opponent, the green truck, impaling themselves on her huge sword in a last ditch attempt to run her down.

She held her arms up to the uproarious cheers of the crowd. The melodramatic announcer came over the loud speaker and declared her the winner; Strika.

"Strika. She certainly _struck_ something in me." Skywarp whispered as leant against Starscream's shoulder, winking and nudging him shamelessly.

He hadn't whispered quietly enough though. There was a loud _whack_ as Cloud Tread leaned down from the row of seats behind to smack Skywarp around the back of the head with the datapad he had been attempting to distract himself from the 'primitivism' with.

"Ow!"

Thundercracker peaked out from behind his hands to scowl, but Starscream made a quick motion to him to stand down. It wasn't worth it. It hadn't been that hard.

Skywarp was still rubbing the back of his head when the next match started. This one was more barbaric in that they appeared to be herding alien monsters out of the tunnels, great lizard-like beings with claws and spiked tails. Starscream couldn't tell if they were sentient, but he pitied whatever fool thought enough of themselves to take them on in hand-to-hand combat.

But it wasn't a gladiator. The trap door at the centre of the fighting pit folded away and through it rose the sacrificial cyber-lamb; a bound, unarmed Autobot.

Ah, it wasn't a true event without at least one public execution.

Starscream had seen plenty of those before.

He looked away, searching the stands for Megatron again, dulling his audials to the screams and roars of a mech being torn limb from limb.

Thundercracker had his head in his lap this time, considerably paler than he had been during the actual fights.

"That was kinda gross." Even Skywarp mumbled.

"Wasn't it just." Cloud Tread's haunting voice said over their heads. Starscream scowled and didn't turn so he wouldn't have to suffer the sight of his smug face. "Alas, these barbaric practices are the Decepticon way."

Starscream wondered if Cloud Tread had somehow forgotten how many executions by firing squad he himself had ordered.

"Wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of them, then." Starscream sniffed, folding his arms.

"No, Starscream," Cloud Tread said darkly, not sounding as cowed as Starscream would have hoped. "You wouldn't."

Starscream tightened his arms around himself and sunk further into his seat, still anxious for Megatron to return. He wasn't sure what Cloud Tread's tone was implying, but it sounded like the old fool thought he could turn him against the community that had already shown him more respect and care in the last week than the palace he had grown up in ever had.

Fat chance, he thought, watching cleaning drones roll out into the fighting pit to mop up the energon from the massacred prisoner. It would take more than Cloud Tread's juvenile manipulations to turn him against Megatron.

There was a brief interval, and the Decepticons in the stands began elbowing and shoving each other to get refreshments before the finale. The announcer was droning on about some last minute change to the schedule, and how it would be something 'not to miss'.

Wondering if Megatron planned on missing the _entire_ show, Starscream rose as well, hoping he might be able to find his wayward conjunx if he wandered the arena in search of him. He was only halfway out of his seat when a hand slapped to his shoulder and shoved him down again. Cloud Tread's trine-mate squeezed the armour hard enough to dent.

" _Where_ do you think _you're_ going?" He asked snottily.

"Maybe he wants some energon pops, you pompous piston!" Skywarp answered for him, turning around and leaning over the back of his seat to get in the older seeker's face and sneer. "Why's it your business anyway? You're not even supposed to be here."

"He's staying here." The full force of Cloud Tread's glare had Skywarp, as brave as he was, shrinking back. "We won't be held responsible by his conjunx should he go missing." He glared at Starscream.

"You think I'd get _lost_?" Starscream was incredulous. "I'm not a sparkling!"

"Sit. _Down_." Cloud Tread hissed.

Starscream did, burning with indignation from his spark to his fuel lines and beyond. They shouldn't still be able to treat him like this. They wouldn't dare if Megatron was present.

Where _was_ he?!

"I'll get you some snacks then." Skywarp rose next to him. "Since no one cares if _I_ get lost."

No one said anything to contradict that. Skywarp's scowl deepened. 

Starscream gave a noncommittal shrug, not really caring for snacks but letting Skywarp step over his legs to get out of the box anyway. With the seat between them now empty, Thundercracker moved up to sit next to Starscream. He didn't appear to be enjoying himself much. He was still pale, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm and keeping his gaze low so not to even glimpse at the still bloodied arena.

"Are you going to faint?" Starscream muttered, too annoyed to be sympathetic. Thundercracker always had been too much of a wuss when it came to these things.

"I think I'm good." Thundercracker dismissed his concerns. "You're not enjoying this as much as I thought you would be. Skywarp's practically sprung a leak-"

"Perhaps I'm above such low level entertainment." Starscream muttered emotionlessly.

"This, from the mech who used to sneak out to watch bootleg copies of 'Cyber City Cage Crash' and claim it was worth getting caught?!"

Starscream sniffed. "Megatron should be back by now."

" _Oh_ ," Thundercracker sounded smug, and Starscream glanced at him to catch him hiding a smirk behind his hand. "So _that's_ the problem."

Starscream knew what he was implying. He elbowed him roughly.

And one of the trine in the row behind kicked the back of his seat.

"I didn't do anything!" He yelled over his shoulder.

"Act like the royal representative you were raised to be or you can sit next to _me_ for the remainder of this chaos." Cloud Tread threatened.

No way was Starscream sitting next to him. He sat back and pressed his lips into a hard thin line, fuming, letting Thundercracker smirk away to himself, unchallenged.

"... _It's not like that_." he muttered when he felt it was safe.

"It's exactly like that." Thundercracker wasn't letting this go. "You can't even focus-"

"Shut _up_ , Thundercracker."

Skywarp, thankfully, chose that moment to return. He stumbled up the stairs with arms so full of junk he could barely see over the top of the bright, precariously-balanced packaging. Cloud Tread stood and immediately tried to confiscate it, and in trying to avoid him Skywarp twisted and turned and dropped pretty much all of it over the edge of the box and into the stands below. Appreciative cheers rose up to meet them.

"Primus dammit." Skywarp muttered, having rescued just one tiny box of cosmic curls from the fall. Starscream immediately snatched them off him and threw most of them into his mouth out of simple spite before Cloud Tread could get his claws on them.

The impending and overused 'junk fuel' lecture was drowned out when the lights went down again and the crowd noise rose with anticipation. Skywarp hurried to plant himself in his seat, leaning over the barrier to watch.

Annoyed that Megatron _still_ hadn't returned and the evening was almost over, Starscream slumped back in his seat and propped his chin against his fist. The main tunnel leading into the fighting pit opened, but Starscream was distracted from paying attention when he heard the curtain shift behind him.

He stood up, ignoring Cloud Tread's reproachful hiss, and saw Soundwave making steady progress up the stairs. He craned his neck to look past him, searching for Megatron, but the lieutenant was alone.

"Where is he?" Starscream yelled over the sudden surge of crowd cheers.

"Star!" Skywarp called to him.

Starscream ignored him, waiting for Soundwave to answer, or for Megatron to finally appear at the bottom of the stairs and quell the growing disappointment. "He said he would join me!"

" _Starscream_!" Skywarp yelled a little more hysterically.

" _What_ , Skywarp!" Starscream whipped around to yell.

Skywarp was out of his seat, pointing a shaky hand down into the fighting pit, optics wide and bright and excited, bouncing on the balls of the pedes. Next to him, Thundercracker looked poleaxed.

Starscream moved back to the front row of the box and looked over the edge, and saw a large mech strolling into the centre of the pit, dragging a thrashing, clawing victim by the leg behind him.

Starscream recognised that stride. Recognised those shoulders.

He fell into his seat with a thump, air rushing from his vents.

"That's-"

The announcer yelled Megatron's name with gusto and the crowd surged to their feet, stamping and jumping and hollering. Megatron stopped in the centre of the pit and dropped his captive's leg. Starscream recognised the unfortunate being as Seizer, and watched as the panicked mech crawled on his hands and knees back towards the doors, stumbling and falling in a panic.

Just before Seizer reached the doors they slammed shut, and a sword was thrown in front of him, clattering against the stained flooring.

Megatron drew his own sword, swinging it in one swift, effortless arch to re-familiarised himself with the weight of it, the arena lights glinting off it's sharp edges.

Starscream's spark thunked in his chest, his fingers denting the railing he gripped.

As Seizer got to his shaky legs and picked up the sword, Megatron surveyed the crowd. His gaze quickly found the box. Starscream felt himself turn hot and cold all at once when their optics met.

Skywarp elbowed him excitedly.

Megatron lifted his sword and extended his arm out, pointing it towards him, focusing on him. Whatever this was, he was to have a part in it.

He glanced at Soundwave, stood silently beside to him like he was waiting for some sort of cue.

"What's going on?" He hissed.

"You will see." Soundwave intoned.

Seizer, despite the cowardly start, was not going down without a fight. He was by no means a small, weak mech. His armour was heavy and dense from his past as a labourer, and though it seemed he'd had himself reformatted for a more luxurious life, he still knew how to weld a weapon.

A shame his processor didn't seem to remember tactics.

Like a lunatic with a death-wish, Seizer rushed Megatron with a battle cry, bringing his sword around in a wide arc. Megatron planted his pedes and watched his approach with a bored expression.

Starscream's spark was in his throat.

Seizer was within reach. Megatron stepped aside and moved his weapon so effortlessly it was like he'd barely flicked his wrist. Seizer dropped to one leg with a cry. He twisted on his knees and swung for Megatron again, but Megatron stamped down on the sword, trapping Seizer's hand under the hilt. Seizer kicked out to get him off. Megatron dodged. Sword free but right hand broken, Seizer _launched_ his weapon after Megatron.

Megatron twisted and leant back, the sword spinning past, whooshing inches from his chest and imbedding itself into the arena wall.

It wasn't much of a show as far as showcase fights went, but Seizer wasn't a gladiator and Megatron was... Well. He was Megatron.

Megatron stepped up to Seizer's downed broken frame and lifted his sword till the tip rested just under his chin.

Enraptured with what was occurring below, Starscream jumped when Soundwave's hand landed on his shoulder and urged him to stand. "It is time."

"Where are you taking him?" Cloud Tread immediately rose, but Soundwave paid him no mind, guiding Starscream out of the box and down the stairs.

The guards at the bottom stopped Cloud Tread from following, crossing their weapons and forming a physical barrier. Starscream caught a glimpse of his flushed furious face, but hardly had the time to enjoy it as Soundwave steered him through the foyer and towards the lower stands.

The arena lights were blinding so low down, but the pit was right in front of him. And so was Megatron, his dark optics watching the entrance, waiting for him. Seizer on his knees at his pedes, appeared to be bargaining, but Starscream couldn't hear over the chants of the crowd.

Soundwave brought him to the very edge of the stands, to the wall separating spectator from gladiator. And suddenly, Starscream knew what he had been brought down here to do. Megatron tilted his head back, silently beckoning him.

Starscream didn't hesitate. He sat on the edge of the wall and swung his legs over, dropping into the pit in a crouch, straightening gracefully. He felt the weight of attention as thousands of spectators stared down at him, and Megatron waiting patiently for him to come to his side, sword still held under Seizer's chin.

"Star- _Starscream_ ," Seizer gasped when he spotted him, frantically looking between him and Megatron as he approached. "You don't have to do this! I can be your friend. A powerful friend! To both of you- you don't-"

Starscream stopped at Megatron's side. Megatron lowered the sword. Seizer foolishly allowed hope to fill his expression.

Until Starscream held his hand out and Megatron pressed the hilt of the sword into his palm.

"No, pl- please," Seizer was begging.

"To the first of many." Megatron promised, taking a step back, leaving Starscream with the sword and his sacrifice.

The sword felt heavy in his hand, forged for Megatron's size and strength and utterly unsubtle for him. But it would do.

He looked into Seizer's energon smeared face and saw the slimy cowardly politician he was. Just like the palace seekers. Just like the council. Just like every senator he had ever been forced to entertain. Mech's who controlled him, and ordered him around, and punished him, and sold him off to foreign warlords and then threatened to take him away again when they realised he was being treated better than they thought he deserved to be.

Seizer hadn't done any of that to him. He knew that. They barely knew one another.

But like all cruel mechs given power, Seizer had done it to others.

And Starscream had been around enough mechs like him to know he'd continue to do it, abuse his power, abuse those under him, if he was allowed to live.

He gripped Megatron's heavy sword in both hands and let Seizer stutter out one last plea before lifting it high above his head.

And brought it down in one smooth, confident swipe.

Metal sliced through metal and the end of the bloodied sword thunked against the flooring. Seizer's head rolled away, and after a moment, the decapitated frame it had been separated from slumped to the ground.

The crowd went wild, and Starscream let the sword hand limb by his side as he touched numb fingers to the energon speckled across his face.

Megatron tugged him against his side, warm and proud, and lifted his arm, sword and all, into the air to celebrate their victory.

The first of many indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do yourself a favour and bask in the glory that is [this](https://virtual-nemesis.tumblr.com/post/186395011782/doomspoon888) amazing piece of artwork by virtual-nemesis inspired by the last scene.


	12. Sure Footing

They didn't stay in Helex long after that. The energon hadn't even dried on Starscream's hands when he was bustled into Soundwave's arms and taken into the halls of the arena. Megatron had to move quickly to prevent a power vacuum from forming, something that Starscream new often resulted in situations of this nature. He'd seen many a palace advisor dragged down to the courtyard and shot over imaginary allegations of treachery.

He was still numb though, and didn't register the pressure on his forehead for what it was until Megatron was already leaping off into the crowd of confused, flustered, excited Decepticons.

He lifted his hand to his head distantly, wondering if he'd imagined the hands cupping his cheeks and the firm, rough mouth pushing a kiss to his brow, murmuring praise, words he couldn't recall but the warmth in his chest they left him with lingering.

Soundwave was pushing him onwards with a hand on the centre of his back, walking quickly, a pace Starscream struggled to match. He realised, as the chaotic roar of the pit grew distant, that they were leaving the arena.

He tried to turn back. "My trine-"

Soundwave caught his upper arm and turned him right back the other way, far rougher than Starscream would have expected. "Thundercracker and Skywarp are on route. They will meet us at the transport."

"Is there a _reason_ we are fleeing?" Starscream hissed, trying to shake Soundwave off.

"Megatron has yet to root out his enemies. You are vulnerable."

Starscream wondered why anyone would care about him. He was Megatron's conjunx endura, yes, but what could hurting him, killing him, possibly achieve beyond Megatron's ire?

"You are more significant than you realise." Soundwave said, like he'd read his mind.

Starscream didn't have chance to question him much more before they were out of the arena and in the courtyard. It was eerily quiet after the surging roar of an arena now in riot. Starscream stood closer to Soundwave in case he should require a living shield. The walk to the transport seemed longer than it should have been.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were already inside, as were the additional unwelcome members of their party. Starscream didn't even bother looking at Cloud Tread to gauge his reaction over what had just happened. He knew it wasn't going to be good.

He was more distracted by his trine's apparent guardian anyway; a rather familiar looking femme.

One look at Skywarp's wide optics and pink cheeks quickly reminded him where he'd seen her before.

"Lord Megatron's guests have been secured." Strika announced, her accent melodic and unexpected. "You are ready to depart."

"What about Megatron?" Starscream demanded, stubbornly loitering on the boarding ramp. There was no sign of his conjunx emerging from the arena.

"Lord Megatron is capable of taking care of himself." Strika said with a hint of irritation, insulted by his apparent concern. "There will be no deviation from his orders. You are to return to Kaon with Soundwave immediately."

Starscream's armour heckled, "I'll have you know I'm a-"

He was cut off when Skywarp grabbed the back of his wing and tugged him up the ramp and into a seat. "Shh!" He hissed. "Don't embarrass me."

(As if he actually believed he had a shot with the gladiator.)

"Megatron has made alternative travel arrangements." Soundwave informed him. "Though I will be sure to pass on your concern for his well being."

So Soundwave was going to tell Megatron he'd been worrying over him? Great. That would do _wonders_ for his reputation. He slumped in his seat and crossed his arms. He could just imagine the smug mech's face now...

_Asymmetrical smirk, optics crinkling at the corners, brow cocked, thinking he looked oh-so-attractive..._

Starscream's fuel tank ached just thinking about it.

Soundwave nodded to Strika, and before Starscream could change his mind, pressed the control to raise the boarding ramp. Starscream stared at the arena entrance through the shrinking gap until it disappeared behind the metal with a dull slam, his tanks clenching at the thought of leaving without him, abandoning him to such a mess.

Distantly he felt Thundercracker's hand fall to his knee and squeeze.

Across from them, so far ignored, a tight lipped Cloud Tread fumed.

 

* * *

 

It was nightfall when they arrived back in Kaon, the fortress of Kolkular the same dark haunting sight it had been the night Starscream and his trine arrived, but now, somehow, a comfort. Like returning home after a long time away. It had been only one day, but it had felt longer. He felt older.

During travel Skywarp had fallen into recharge against him, cheek smooshed to his upper arm and mouth unattractively open as he snored. Starscream had offlined his optics and pretended to join him just to prevent any risk of a conversation forming between him and an obviously incensed Cloud Tread.

When they landed, the clumsy jolt of the landing gear hitting the hanger roused Skywarp, so Starscream couldn't find any excuse to keep pretending.

Cloud Tread stood first and called him, like he wanted to take him aside.

But Soundwave, claiming to be acting on simple 'etiquette', let Starscream and his trine off first, and planted all twenty something tonnes of himself on the boarding ramp to give them time to flee deeper into the fortress before Cloud Tread could have the opportunity to follow, Skywarp unsubtly giggling all the way.

"You should have seen his face!" Skywarp laughed later, wetting a washcloth, wringing it out, and bringing it to Starscream's face, washing the specks of dried energon from his forehead. "When you appeared next to Megatron in the pit I thought he was going to combust!"

Starscream wasn't listening, sunk into the warm steaming bath water up his nose. He tilted his head back, and spoke to the ceiling when he asked, "Do you think he's alright?"

"He's fine." Thundercracker said from the opposite end of the tub, also in the water up to his chin, a damp washcloth over his optics to ward off his processor ache. "Megatron's a professional."

"Yeah Screamer." Skywarp dipped fingers into the water and flicked them at him, catching him across the face. "Didn't you see the way he danced around Seizer? It's everyone _else_ you should be worried about."

"It's not 'everyone else' who I'm conjunxed to." Starscream frowned. "When he gets himself killed, where does that leave me?"

"If," Skywarp corrected. " _If_ he gets himself killed."

"Megatron's been doing this for far longer than he's known you for." Thundercracker peeled the washcloth away from one optic to peer at him. "You're worrying over unlikely hypotheticals."

"He should be back by now." Starscream refused to let them soothe his nerves over this. "He should at _least_ have sent word here to tell me when he'd return."

Skywarp flicked him with water again. "Depends on how many heads he wants to smash together first." 

"I should be with him!" Starscream splashed the bath water.

Skywarp stood and moved to kneel behind Starscream's end of the tub, holding his washcloth threateningly before his face. "You should shut up before I stuff this in your mouth."

Starscream sunk beneath the water line until only glaring optics were visible.

"C'mon," Skywarp balled up the washcloth and threw it at Thundercracker's head instead, gripping the edge of the tub to help himself rise from the floor. "Hurry up, guys. I'm beat, and we should make the most of a night together before Megatron comes back and turfs us out so he can do unspeakable things to his favourite little killer here."

Starscream snorted into the water, blowing bubbles. _If only_.

Thundercracker climbed out first and extended a hand to him. Reluctantly, Starscream took it, stepping out and dripping water all over Megatron's floor by ignoring the towel that was offered.

"Starscream!" Skywarp complained when he climbed into the berth still damp.

"It's my berth." Starscream complained, rolling and drying himself with the sheets. A fresh set, he noticed, clean, but sadly lacking Megatron's scent.

"Megatron's gonna think you sprung a leak..." Skywarp teased, wriggling in next it him.

Starscream snorted again, "That's if he even deigns to join me."

"This sounds like the sort of thing you should talk to him about." Thundercracker climbed in on his other side, warm and dry and clean from their shared bath. Starscream squirmed into his arms, looking for affection, needing it. "You've only been conjunxed one night. You can't judge your entire relationship from that. And besides, maybe he wants to wait?"

"For what?" Starscream muttered into his neck. "The palace are going to start asking how their heir is coming along. They're going to want to know why I haven't been fulfilling my part of the bargain."

"Stop worrying about it." Skywarp breathed against his back.

"Just let things progress naturally." Thundercracker murmured, lazily nuzzling the top of his head with his nose.

"Yeah, and if that doesn't work, suck his spike."

Starscream jolted violently, kicking Thundercracker in his haste to turn and demand an explanation from Skywarp, face-to-face. "Suck. His. _What_?"

Skywarp's grin was mischievous, unrepentant, "What?! I'm serious, it's something they like doing down here!"

"Warp," Thundercracker tried tiredly.

"It sounds disgusting." Starscream sniffed, rolling back to face Thundercracker. "If _that's_ what he's waiting for Vos is never getting that sparkling."

There was an awkward sort of silence that followed. Starscream could almost feel Skywarp's grin against his wing, and the stiff sort of tension coming off Thundercracker made if feel like he was trying to cuddle up to a support beam.

"...It's not that bad." Thundercracker said quietly.

Starscream lurched away from him as Skywarp burst into laughter. "Thundercracker!" He cried, scandalised.

"We just wanted to try it!" Skywarp was still laughing. "It was fun!"

"So _that's_ what you two were doing all those nights Cloud Tread had us separated?!"

"Well what else were we supposed to do?" Skywarp lifted an arm in a gesture that implied it couldn't be helped. "Sit around twiddling our thumbs?"

"Yes!" Starscream hissed, then pushed Skywarp's grinning face back when it appeared on his shoulder. "Get away from me. I don't know where you've been-"

"Yes you do," Skywarp smiled slyly.

Starscream cried out in disgust. Thundercracker hid under his pillow.

 

* * *

 

Megatron hadn't come away from Helex without a few scuffs and scrapes. And an axe wound or two. It wasn't anything serious, but the patch up jobs he'd done on the return journey would need to be replaced with permanent alternatives. He would get it seen too. Soon.

But he had more pressing concerns. Seeing to Starscream namely, and having a long overdue discussion with him about their place in one another's lives. It was time he lay his cards on the table. It was time for change.

He had felt it, when he'd placed the hilt of his sword in Starscream's upturned palm. There was a trust between them now, shaky and unsure, but it was there.

A debrief with Soundwave could also wait, no doubt Strika had already spoken with him at length through the private comm channels regarding the day's events. She was one of very few he could trust to speak for him. She was honest and pragmatic, and unlike many Decepticons in the upper command chain, didn't have her own agenda.

It could all wait till morning. He had plans tonight.

His chrono had ticked over into the early hours of the next cycle by the time he stepped into his quarters. It was dark inside, but he paused when he saw the berth; and the three rather cozy looking seekers dog-piled together and cocooned in the sheets. Their ventilations were even and slow, their frames still save for the occasional flicking wing among the mess of disorganised limbs.

He almost didn't want to wake them.

He proceeded more carefully, footsteps tentative and armour tight to prevent rattling. He reached in to nudge what he hoped was Starscream's shoulder. Starscream must have felt safe between his trine, because he was in a deep recharge. It took a few tries to rouse him.

Finally, his mouth pressed into a frown, optics crinkling at the corners as they squinted online- then shot open wide when he recognised Megatron stood over him. Megatron pressed a finger to his lips when Starscream opened his mouth, delaying conversation for now. He'd have they spoke in private. 

Starscream seemed to understand and nodded, then glanced between his trine-mates as he searched for an escape route. Megatron extended a hand to help him out from between them with minimal disturbance.

Starscream's hand was warm from sleep, and his balance off when he stood on the wobbly berth. He almost stepped on Thundercracker's wing, so Megatron forewent pretence and simply took him by the hips and lifted him clean off the berth, Starscream's hands on his shoulders for balance.

He placed Starscream back on the floor, trying to not smirk at the seeker's warmly glowing cheeks as he extended an arm to wave Starscream ahead.

He directed him to the elevator that led up the fortress's huge domed roof. Starscream seemed curious, and Megatron realised he had probably never been up there before. A mistake on his part. He should have arranged a tour for him days ago...

"You'll like it." He promised, at Starscream's little frown. "It's not quite what you're used to, but there is a view. Unobstructed even. Crews that come to repair the roof have been known to fall to their deaths."

Starscream was noticeably trying to hide a smirk. "What if _you_ were to fall to your death?"

"I'm sure footed," Megatron reassured him.

"Even if you were pushed?" Starscream teased with a smirk. At least, Megatron _hoped_ he was teasing.

The elevator dinged and they stepped out into the marginally cooler air. There was a light breeze thanks to the altitude, but Kaon was still a humid, stifling place, where the air was almost too thick to breath and lingered between armour paneling.

It could have been worse. At least at night, the furnaces were off.

"How can you stand it?" Starscream asked, walking out onto the domed roof, the smooth, curved metal a death trap in slipperier conditions. "The heat?"

"I have become used to it." Megatron followed him out, stepping somewhat more carefully. "We should talk."

"Hmm." Starscream stared out across Kaon below. The clouds above the city were a dirty orange from the light pollution, and the buildings themselves a blinding mess of amber and gold where life was too closely packed together.

"I suppose I should thank you, for today." Starscream said distantly.

"You did well."

"All I did was cut his head off." Starscream shrugged. "He might have run away if you hadn't sliced through the wiring of his legs."

"It was a joint effort." Megatron conceded, finally reaching Starscream's position. They were far further out that Megatron was really comfortable with, so he leant back on his heels to keep from overbalancing and sliding right off the edge of the domed roof. "We are a team, after all."

Starscream hummed again, lost in his own thoughts.

Megatron stepped in front of him, glancing back to make sure he wasn't about to plummet to his death. He stooped to take Starscream's cheek and tilt his handsome face up. It pressed into it's usual frown, optics reluctant to meet his gaze.

"You would make a fine lieutenant."

Starscream slapped his wrist, removing his touch. "I'm not a solider."

"You acted like one today."

"Heat of the moment." Starscream hissed through his teeth, staring past Megatron. "I'm not a war build."

"Precisely." Megatron pulled him back when he tried to turn away. "Yet you handle a sword as well any."

"You're delusional."

"Because I believe in you?"

Starscream froze, optics widening, brow creasing. When he finally moved again it was to scoff angrily. "...You don't _know_ me-"

"I know you." Megatron frowned. "You're my conjunx."

"Am I really?" Starscream struck a sassy pose, hands on hips, head tilted. "Because you certainly haven't bothered fragging me yet."

A dark curl of displeasure rolled through Megatron's tanks. "Nor do I ever plan on 'fragging' you."

"Ugh," Starscream threw his head back, the very picture of dramatic. "Don't start with that 'making love' nonsense, Megatron, get a grip. You're supposed to be a warrior. This is an arranged marriage not a love story. We're not here to like each other, we're here to make sparklings-"

"And I thought we'd agreed there would be no sparklings until-"

"No, _you_ decided that!" Starscream pointed at him.

Megatron could feel himself losing his temper, "Because it's not safe for-"

"It'll never be safe!"

"I will _make_ it safe!" Megatron barked, voice carrying across the roof.

Starscream pressed a hand to his face, shielding his optics. He exhaled heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose, scowling at their feet. "...If I don't do what they want, they'll take me away."

"They can't." Megatron growled.

"They _will_." Starscream said menacingly. "They don't care what deal you've made, they'll go straight to Iacon. You wouldn't be the first mech they've double crossed."

Megatron shook his head, and despite Starscream's grumpiness, was able to take the seeker's face in his hands again, big palms cupping his angular jaw. He brushed a thumb across a smooth cheek, and could have sworn Starscream leant into the pressure, seeking his comfort.

"The day you return to Vos, will be the day I conquer it." He promised.

Starscream made an annoyed noise and tried to pull away, but he held him steady. "We will take their city, and their airforce, and their palace. And you will be Winglord, sat on the throne that should have been yours by right."

Starscream's grumpy frown softened, but he didn't look particularly convinced. "You _are_ delusional." He said lightly.

Megatron hummed, letting him have the last word in return for a kiss, tipping Starscream's face up and melding their lips together with slow, measured pressure, breathing one another's air and soaking in one another's warmth. He slipped a hand down Starscream's back, fingers grazing over wing hinges, and Starscream pressed into him with an interested purr.

Perhaps too interested. Megatron stepped back to regain his footing on the steep incline, and stumbled when he realised there was no more roof to stand on. He swayed back, breaking the kiss with a mildly panicked noise, his optics wide with surprise.

But before he could tip over and fall aft over fusion cannon off the roof, a clawed hand shot out and caught him by the chest plate.

Hanging precariously on the edge, Megatron stared into Starscream's smirking face.

There was a tense moment where he wasn't sure if Starscream was going to let him fall, before the seeker rolled his optics, either at himself or at him for being so clumsy, and tugged him back upright.

"You're endearingly stupid, you know that?" Starscream purred.

Megatron's spark started spinning again. Fast. "Careful Starscream," he said, straightening up. "Anyone would think you were starting to like me."

He was playing a dangerous game. Starscream could very well have rectified the mistake of saving his life with little more than a nudge. Instead, he smirked and tugged Megatron into another kiss, lips curved into an unmistakeable smile against Megatron's mouth.

Yes, he was definitely starting to like him.

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread sealed his finished report with his own personal mark, locking the datapad from all optics save the councils before passing it to his trine. "Be there by morning." He ordered.

His trine looked between one another, nodding reluctantly, unsure. "You won't return with us? If Megatron were to learn what was in this datapad-?"

"I will need to remain here for when the council reaches a decision." Cloud Tread waved them off. "Otherwise it would be difficult removing Starscream from the outside."

"What if the council decide to let him stay?" his more clueless trine-mate asked.

Cloud Tread rolled his optics, nodding to the datapad they held. "I assure you, they won't."

 

 


	13. The Jump Joint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! The heatwave here really knocked my productivity. This is really only a filler chapter before the REAL plot starts, so sorry if it feels a little empty.

Starscream wanted to drag Megatron into the berth with him and his trine, but the mech was stubborn, offering a flood of excuses instead. Everything from having work to do to not wanting to intrude. Starscream, equally as stubborn, had dug his heels in and nearly dislocated Megatron's fingers tugging on them, reminding the large mech that he _couldn't_ be 'intruding' as it was his berth, and if there really wasn't enough room for all four of them, Skywarp could recharge on the floor.

But it wasn't about _intruding_. A mech who had no qualms frequently interrupting a prince's bath certainly wouldn't care about disturbing someone's recharge cycle.

No, Megatron suspected ulterior motives behind Starscream wanting to get him between the sheets, suspicions heightened by the almost-kisses they kept pausing to have -these awkward, lingering moments where the conversation tapered off and they were stood in the middle of the corridor just staring at each other, Starscream wishing desperately to be pushed up against the wall, and Megatron doing an excellent impression of a love-sick turbo-puppy.

So he returned to the berth alone, Thundercracker and Skywarp asleep and unaware of his absence. Megatron remained in the doorway - where Starscream had abandoned his attempts at begging and decided to sulk instead- watching him settle down for a moment longer than practical.

Starscream stared back from the berth, tormenting himself with what Megatron could possibly be thinking when those clever optics followed him about the room. What went on in that thrice-concussed, helmet-clad head of his? He fell asleep wondering.

The heat was what woke him the next cycle -midday. He was sprawled spreadeagled across the berth, covers thrown off and kicked to the end. He'd overslept and was alone in the berth, but not alone in the room. The sound of running water reached him through the open doorway of the washroom.

Sitting up and rubbing his face, he heard his trine mumbling to one another, whining and complaining of the heat and how they were never going to be used to it. Helex had reminded them all too well what an acceptable climate was, and how better suited they were to chillier airs.

When he joined them in the wash room he wasn't at all surprised to find them taking turns in watering each other down with the tepid water from the hose, thumb over the rim to pressurise the flow and spray it in a cooling midst.

Thundercracker held the hose threateningly aloft when he appeared in the doorway. "Your turn?"

"No." Starscream inched back behind the doorframe, thinking of the watermarks such abuse would cause. He'd rather overheat and _die_. "Turn it off. I know somewhere we can go."

"A freezer?" Skywarp piped up hopefully.

Obviously if Starscream had found a freezer he would already be in it himself, and he certainly wouldn't be sharing it with his hot-running, mouth-breathing trine.

He took them up to the roof, where Megatron had lured him the night before. It was warmer than it had been at night, so the wind chill was less of a relief, but it was certainly better than the sweltering stuffiness of the fortress.

"He took you up here last night?" Skywarp wandered around the edge, standing well beyond what could be deemed safe to look over the edge at the dark, smog spewing buildings below. His nose scrunched up. "Pretty public place for a clang."

"It is more atmospheric at night." Starscream said casually, thinking of the amber city lights and darkening crimson sky. Then realised what Skywarp had said. "And we didn't clang. What sort of person do you think I am?!"

"A whipped one." Skywarp muttered under his breath, coming back to him.

"I'm not whipped." Starscream sat down, legs folded under him, the metal roof under his aft warm but not searing. "Megatron's the whipped one."

Skywarp snorted and plonked himself down next to him. Starscream inched away so Skywarp's wings wouldn't block what little breeze he was getting.

"So you talked to him?" Thundercracker called across the roof, somewhere behind them, sounding hopeful.

Starscream shrugged.

"Well?" Thundercracker pressed, sounding much like an interested creator trying to prize details out of their offspring on the first day of academy. "What did you say?"

"Things."

Skywarp roughly elbowed Starscream in the side, knocking him so hard he had to catch himself against the roof.

"What things? What did you talk about?"

"Interfacing." Starscream sat up again and stared at the roof beneath his knees, tracing his finger over the seams in the panels. "Sparklings. Conquering Vos. The usual stuff."

When neither of his trine answered, he looked up and found them staring. Skywarp's mouth was open. Starscream slapped him under the chin to close it for him, clacking his teeth together harshly.

"He's not _serious_!" Starscream smirked at their gullible faces. "You know what mechs are like. Would promise you the stars if that's what it took to get their spikes wet-"

"Megatron doesn't need to promise you anything though." Skywarp nudged him with his elbow again, rubbing at his jaw. "You're already gagging for it."

Starscream shoved him back, hissing with sharp offence. "I am not-!"

"Oh yeah? We _saw_ you mooning over him last night." Skywarp wasn't letting up.

"You were asleep!"

"We _were_! Till you showed up. How could we recharge through all your snogging and _'oh **please** Megatron, I only want a cuddle!_'" Skywarp mimicked, clasping hands together next to his cheek and making an exaggerated kissy face.

Starscream's face ignited. He stood up. "I didn't say that!"

"You might as well have!" Skywarp stood as well.

"Well this is a lovely way to start the day." Thundercracker, always the mediator, came wandering over to them. Fortunate, considering how close Starscream was to pushing Skywarp off the roof.

" _He_ started it." Skywarp sneered at Starscream.

"Shall I finish it too?" Starscream snarled back, getting right up in Skywarp's face, noses almost brushing.

"Starscream." Thundercracker's tone was thick with disappointment.

"Yeah right. You can't even finish a high-grade." Skywarp mocked. "And I've been kicking your aft since before we had wings."

"Then enjoy it while it lasts because you won't have the upper-hand for long."

Thundercracker took his shoulder and drew him back, out of Skywarp's face. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to be combat trained!" Starscream puffed his chest out, standing proud. "So you better start watching your vocaliser, Skywarp."

Skywarp and Thundercracker stared at him.

"Combat training?" Thundercracker was staring at him like he'd just declared a desire to be reformatted into a dumpster truck. "Why? This isn't because you took someone's head off, is it?"

" _Yes_ , because I took someone's head off!" Starscream hissed. "It felt good. I liked it. I want to do it again. I want to be _useful_."

Skywarp took a self-preserving step back.

"You're not a war build." Thundercracker reminded him quietly.

"A lot of the mechs here aren't war builds," Starscream stared out across Kaon, lifting his nullrays and pointing them to the horizon. "And I was given weapons. I want to be able to use them."

"Against who?"

"Against anyone who crosses me." Starscream exhaled, letting his arms drop. "I've been taught all my life all I'm good for is sitting still and looking pretty. Well no more! Here marks the beginning of a new chapter for Starscream!"

"Wait, you don't wanna be pretty?" Skywarp ruined his dramatic moment.

Starscream snorted loudly. "Don't be ridiculous, Skywarp. I'm not going to let myself _go_ , I'm simply saying I am capable of both. I can achieve far greater than what the council ever wanted me to believe I could."

"It's not really a question of being capable though." Thundercracker's brow was creased with worry. "If Cloud Tread's disapproval is any indication of what the council is going to think of this, adding fuel to the fire by turning yourself into some sort of Warrior-Prince is only going to worsen tensions."

"Then Megatron will just have to live up to his promises, won't he?"

"So much for ' _he's not serious_ '," Thundercracker muttered, and stepped up behind him. "... Look, we know you're worried about Cloud Tread-"

"It takes more than some washed-up council member to worry me."

"Worried about what he's threatening at least. To take you back. But we're not going to let that happen." Thundercracker said sincerely. "If that's why you're doing this-?"

"I'm not doing this to protect myself from Cloud Tread." Starscream sighed. "Didn't you hear a word I just said?"

"Yeah, TC, he's doing this to impress Megatron." Skywarp smiled.

Starscream plucked up a loose bolt from the roof and threw it at Skywarp. It hit him in the optic.

 

* * *

 

While Thundecracker took Skywarp in search of a medic for their half-blind trinemate, Starscream went off in search of assistance of his own.

He found Soundwave, the communications chief, in the main communications hub- no surprise there. Finally, after cycles of living in the fortress, the guards had learned not to deny him entry into secure areas.

Who was he going to send sensitive information to anyway? It wasn't like he had any politically connected friends.

He entered the vast room just as a mech was leaving; an _attractive_ , young mech, armed with guns and a determined, cold expression. Starscream stopped in the doorway to look him up and down, annoyed simply because the Decepticons he was used to seeing about the fortress were bulky and worn and certainly didn't have hips like Iaconian upgrade-model.

His judgment drew the generously designed mech's attention, and he stopped too, dark crimson optics tracking him up and down, sizing him up.

"Megatron's seeker." He said, accent dreadfully common, and Starscream only realised he wasn't being addressed directly when Soundwave appeared around a monitor bank to answer.

"Starscream." the lieutenant confirmed. "Deadlock; has his orders." He added with a note of impatience.

'Deadlock's' only response was to click his weaponry online, sweeping past Starscream and off into the fortress.

"Who," Starscream began, sneer pulling at his face. "Was _that_?"

"An agent of Megatron's. No one of consequence."

That did little to curb the swell of jealousy. Just how many attractive 'agents' did Megatron have doing his bidding? Just how many of them were shaped like _that?_

"Come." Soundwave gestured him closer, out of the doorway and to join him beside the largest of the monitors, currently playing twenty news feeds all at once -some displaying war zones, replaying explosions, and others droning on about the 'poltics' of Iacon, all sunny and cultured like the war was something beneath their high-caste audiences' notice.

"There is something on your processor."

Starscream tore his gaze away from an Iaconian new feed currently paying a puff piece on Sentinel Prime, who had managed to take time out of his busy schedule ordering strikes on civilian populated districts of Polyhex to pet the hydro-weasels down at the Cybertronian Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your presence here." Soundwave said simply. "I am not sought after for casual bonding."

Starscream hummed acceptingly. Behind him on screen Sentinel Prime had exhausted the patience of the hydro-weasel he was being forced to interact with and was forced to stumble out of the camera frame as it turned around and tried to bite his face off.

"I require combat training."

"Megatron has failed to mention this." Soundwave made a show of consulting his notes.

"This isn't from Megatron, it's from me. _I_ want to be combat trained."

Soundwave studied him carefully. In the prevailing silence, Sentinel Prime's bleeped out shouts drowned out all the other news feeds.

"Why come to me," Soundwave asked again, with a hint of suspicion, "and not your accomplished warrior of a conjunx for combat training?"

"I want it to be a surprise." Starscream tried not to sound as embarrassed as he felt.

"Megatron; surprised?" Soundwave intoned bluntly. "With a gun to the head?"

"Oh," Starscream tilted back into his heels at what Soundwave was getting at, and oddly, found himself rather flattered. "You think I'd use these new combat skills to get the better of him?"

"Negative. Starscream; would use combat skills to ' _attempt_ ' to overcome Megatron."

Starscream's feeling of flattery evaporated. He placed his hands on his hips. "Is that a challenge?"

"Training will be arranged." Soundwave agreed out of the blue, ignoring the question and circling the conversation all the way back around again. "As per your request, details will be shielded from Megatron."

Starscream didn't want to say 'thank you', so he gave the stoic mech an appreciative nod instead. Soundwave returned it.

Perhaps they'd learn to understand one another yet.

 

* * *

 

That evening, once the air in the stifling city had cooled to _almost_ bearable levels, Megatron took him out. Starscream was initially annoyed at the lack of notice. He had been heading down to the mess with Thundercracker and Skywarp (optic repaired efficiently by Knock Out) when a huge hand had clamped around his upper arm and spun him in a circle.

Starscream recognised now that it had been a spontaneous, 'romantic' move, but him having screeched and twisted his ankle somewhat ruined the moment. Worse still, Megatron insisted on leaving right that second, tugging a still reeling Starscream along, not once considering his pleas for a quick stop at their quarters to refreshen up.

"Just five minutes!"

"A Vosian five minutes seems to veer closer to a Kaonian hour." Megatron argued, poking fun at how long Starscream was warrant to take getting ready. "You are fine as you are."

"Fine?" Starscream scoffed.

Megatron's brow creased with a frown as he thought. "...Beautiful." He amended, with the sort of unsure back-tracking common in mechs new to relationships. "You are _beautiful_ as you are."

For the first time, Starscream wondered if this infamous 'Scourge Of Kaon' had ever had much time for relationships before him. There had yet to be mention of former lovers, whispers of past dalliances, even mentions of side pieces.

He wriggled his arm out of Megatron's grip and took his hand instead, ignoring the uncomfortable clammy sensation brought on by the heat between their clasped armour. He smirked to himself as they walked out of the fortress, thinking if he ever _did_ learn of a past love, he'd kill them.

The thought was more cathartic now that he knew how good it'd feel.

His thoughts continued to bounce between murder and intimacy as they moved through the city levels, moving lower and lower, real estate getting cheaper and grimier.

"You often go out alone?" Starscream voiced, concerned. As Prince, he had never been allowed, and he had expected Megatron -as leader, too valuable to lose- to have a guard escort much like the Winglord had in Vos.

"Guards draw too much attention." Megatron explained. "And they can be intimidating. Mecha need to find me approachable."

Starscream pulled a face, thinking of all the grubby little peons that could run up to them unencumbered and smear them with their poor-people viruses. "Ew, what if they want to talk to you?!"  
  
"Would that be so awful?"

"Yes." Starscream said stubbornly, deciding in himself that if some peasant came running up to Megatron he was going finally use these nullrays he'd been given and shoo them off with force.

Somehow they arrived at their destination un-assaulted.

A _bar_.

The Jump Joint sat on one of the lowest levels of Kaon, so low in fact, that the sky was barely visible above them, just a narrow streak of blood red peaking out between the upper levels. Starscream felt an invisible weight press down on his wings. It wasn't right for a seeker to be so far from the sky.

A mech stood guarding the door (like anyone would _want_ to come him). He called Megatron 'boss' when he stepped aside to let them pass, and threw a quizzed look Starscream's way, optics lingering on wings like he'd never seen a pair before.

Considering his low down they were he probably hadn't.

The Jump Joint was empty. Not the unpopular sort of empty most run down bars suffered from, but cleared out, deserted, all but a bar-mech inside, stood in place and waiting for them.

"If you wanted to buy out a private venue as a romantic gesture, I would have suggested something more upmarket." Starscream told him.

"I do not need to buy out what I own." Megatron pulled Starscream towards the bar, where the bar-mech, Slinger, had drinks prepared for then.

The stools were higher than comfortable for Starscream, but he managed to rise up onto it without the fuss that might had encouraged Megatron's assistance. He couldn't have his conjunx getting into the habit of picking him up, not when he enjoyed the feel of big hands and strong arms so much.

On the stools their knees brushed, and Starscream played with the potassium sprinkles around the rim of his cube to distract from it.

"Why do you own a bar?"

"It was a front." Megatron swirled his cube. "A cover for mission operations early in the rebellion. It's not much use now, but," Megatron shrugged. "I enjoy the fuel."

Starscream wiggled on the wobbly stool. "Would it have killed you to refurbish it?"

"I like it this way. Reminds me of home."

Home. Starscream knew, as did many who had heard of the infamous warlord, that Megatron of Tarn was from Tarn. Yet it was the first time the mech had mentioned his ancestral home to Starscream, and as someone who's entire identity revolved around Vos and what it made him, Starscream found it incomprehensible that someone's origin could be but a mere afterthought.

"Will you take me there?"

Megatron looked surprised. "To Tarn?"

Starscream nodded, watching Megatron over the rim of his cube.

"I am not so sure you would enjoy it. Tarn won't have much to offer you."

"It made you." Starscream pointed out. "And I find you... _enjoyable_."

Megatron began to smoulder at him, leaning close with an arm braced on the bar, his massive thighs open with knees sitting either side of Starscream's tightly clenched legs. "Perhaps one day. If you'd return the favour and take me to Vos?"

Starscream looked away, no longer coy. "No. We've discussed now bad an idea that is. They'll do everything in their power to separate us."

"Yes, separate us..." Megatron sat back again, clearing his vocaliser. "Which brings me to some unfortunate news."

Starscream's tank spilled across the floor to join the hundreds of years old stains at what the unflinching Megatron could possibly consider 'unfortunate'. "You're not leaving again, are you?"

That Megatron wouldn't look at him confirmed his fears. Starscream was put off his cube. He nudged it away with his fingers. "Well there's little for me to do here. I'll come with you."

"You are remaining here." Megatron lifted his dark gaze, serious.

"I'm your conjunx!"

"This isn't a pleasant day-trip into Decepticon held territory." Megatron growled. "I'll be in the thick of it. And as much as I will miss not having you at my side, there are limits to my protection. You're not ready for open war."

"How long?" Starscream asked miserably, thinking that combat training he'd arranged for couldn't come soon enough. 

"Two cycles. At the most."

"It better be at the most." Starscream lifted his cube just to slam it down again. "What am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

"Wait for me to return." Megatron offered cheekily.

Starscream scoffed. "Careful now, with that smug attitude I might not be here when you return at all."

Megatron leant forward and caught him in a kiss. He tasted spicy and warm, glossa sweeping over Starscream's bottom lip and pushing into his mouth to flick over his tongue.

They lingered in their kiss for sometime, until their drinks were cold and bland, until Slinger was falling asleep into his own bar, until half the city's lights were out, and even when Megatron got up to leave Starscream tried to pull him back, wanting the night to drag on forever, because at least then tomorrow might not come.

"Two days." Megatron murmured against his lips. "Just two."

Easy for Megatron to say, he wasn't the one being left behind.

"You'll be fine." Megatron told his cheek, drawing away. "We won't be separate for long."

Starscream nodded, unable to fight the feeling Megatron might be wrong.

 


	14. Strika's School Of Hard Knocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning for violence this chapter, but only because Decepticon roughhousing is just a bit too rough for seekers who aren't used to it.

Skywarp's sharp elbow jabbed Thundercracker in the side, right between armour panels.

" _Ow_ ," He hissed, but tried not to move too much, reluctant to draw the attention of _Cloud Tread_ unsubtly watching Starscream from a pillar at the front of the fortress. "What?"

"No way they haven't done it yet," Skywarp muttered out of the corner of his mouth, nodding to where their trine-leader was saying his goodbyes to Megatron- and had been saying his goodbyes for about ten minutes now, their apathetic attempts at separating without making a spectacle of themselves backfiring into the most awkward, shuffling of feet and shy glances and-

"They haven't."

"They have." Skywarp insisted. "No one's that awkward unless they've something to be awkward about. They totally did it. And I bet Screamer cocked it up."

"They have not. It's obviously not interfacing that's making them act weird." Thundercracker rolled his optics. "And if Starscream had... _done it_ , he'd have told us."

"Not if he'd cocked it up, he wouldn't." Skywarp huffed. "And what do you mean it's not 'facing that's making them weird? What else is there to be weird about?"

Thundercracker watched Megatron and Starscream's delayed stares and longing optics and the odd way they seemed to be clinging to one another's fingers, unable to let go, even as Megatron's towering soldiers shifted impatiently on their footing, passing exasperated glances between one another.

Thundercracker understood their irritation. Megatron and Starscream weren't even really speaking to one another, so there was no real reason for the delay, no last minute messages to pass on, just this awkward pause where they both seemed to be waiting for the other to make the first -or last- move.

"It's more than that." Thundercracker felt a smile pull at his lips, chest filling with warmth.

He glanced at Skywarp, who didn't seem to be seeing the same thing he was, even as he squinted hard and shielded his optics from the morning glare to see better. "...Really?" He said disbelievingly.

Clueless. Thundercracker sighed, and hazarded another glance back at Cloud Tread. He didn't like the look of the firm-lipped frown of disapproval the older seeker was sending the couples way.

Skywarp may be oblivious, but Cloud Tread certainly wasn't.

 _"Just kiss him and let him go!_ " Skywarp cupped his hands around his mouth and _shouted_ across the courtyard to Starscream, causing _all_ of Thundercracker's internal components to crumple and twist with second-hand embarrassment like his chassis had just become a trash compactor.

Megatron's brows shot up into his helmet, which was a response all of it's own, but it was Starscream's horror-stricken expression when he whipped around that could really put the fear of Primus into any sane being.

Thundercracker inched away from Skywarp to lessen the chances of being affiliated with his actions and save himself from punishment when Megatron was due to finally leave and Starscream was free to come stomping back over to crack their helms together, but the murderous twist to their trine-leader's expression was swept away in an instant when a smirking Megatron dropped his mouth to the very top of Starscream's helm in a kiss goodbye.

He was already walking away when a stunned Starscream turned back around, throwing a fond smile over his broad shoulder. Starscream's wing fluttered to a depressed droop against his back.

Thundercracker risked a second glance at Cloud Tread, and saw the older seeker smirking.

Today was a good day to stick close to their trine-leader.

 

* * *

 

"You don't have to come with me." Starscream told his trine stiffly, annoyed at their hovering behaviour. It was like being followed by a pair of ugly, buzzing helicopters. "In fact, _don't_. Not if all you're going to do is sit on the sidelines and tut under your breath that this is 'unbecoming'."

"No! We're here as support!" Skywarp protested, sounding genuinely excited. "And to laugh when you fall over."

Starscream was sure the grind of his teeth was audible.

"It's not like we've anything better to do." Thundercracker added casually. _Too_ casually. Starscream didn't have to look too closely into his sour face to know nothing about this situation pleased him.

Starscream cast him a sideways glance. "Oh, I don't know, Thundercracker. I thought you two were _occupying_ one another just fine without me?"

"Is this about the spike sucking thing again?" Skywarp asked at a cringingly loud volume, in a corridor that echoed and amplified every word. Starscream didn't miss Thundercracker's full body flinch.

"Seriously Screamer," Skywarp continued, "if you think _that's_ racey, just wait till you hear what _I_ overheard in the mess this morning, about licking someone's-"

"Warp!" Thundercracker cried, voice at least three octaves above what it should have been. Starscream was just thankful for his intervention. He was haunted enough by the debauchery of the Decepticons here. He didn't need his trine adding to the mix of vivid pictures in his processor.

And he had better things to focus on now; learning how to fight.

He only had two days before Megatron's return -'only' being the inappropriate word the insensitive Soundwave had used, as if every minute left behind here wasn't going to be torture- and Starscream wanted to have made a marked improvement before then, so to impress his conjunx with, they had little time to waste.

Shouldn't be too much of a stretch. Soundwave had arranged for one of Megatron's personal favourites -an old fiend and a talented warrior- to offer some basic combat training.

"Basic." Starscream scoffed when he and his trine met Soundwave in one of the sparring rooms in the west wing of the fortress, where it was coolest in the mornings and much more temperate for active seekers still unused to the climate. "I _have_ basic combat skills."

Soundwave stared past him to his trine. Starscream snapped his gaze back and caught them mid disagreeing head-shake. Traitors.

They would be the first to fall to his new skill set.

"Which 'valued warrior' have you found for me anyway?" Starscream sniffed, stepping out onto the sparring room's combat ring. It was far from the sort of digital virtual-reality floor he had sometimes seen the royal guards training with at the palace -seekers fighting against holographic opponents with a computer to track their scores. This one was simply a ring of springy floor, designed to cushion falls.

"I thought the best of the best were _with_ Megatron." He continued, digging his heel into the flooring, testing it. "Makes me wonder why one would be left behind."

"Because she had more important duties to see to, little seeker." A melodic voice called to him from the entrance. He twirled on his heel, recognising the voice, and the broad silhouette, as Strika. The champion gladiator from Helex stomped her way into the combat ring, low lights illuminating her helm and the long lines of her shoulders.

Starscream's audials filled with the most annoyingly high pitched noise, so annoying in fact, that it took him a moment to place it as Skywarp, who was staring at Strika with hands balled up in front of his mouth like he was about to start crying.

Great. That wasn't at all going to be distracting.

" _You're_ training me?" Starscream was less impressed. He looked her up and down, and yes, he had seen her at the arena, and yes, she _was_ impressive, but she was a common pit dweller. A brawler. He had been expecting-

"Adjust your stance." She ordered him, optics sharp and narrow, tone like a drill sergeant's.

Starscream cocked a hip and planted his hands on his waist. "Look. I appreciate you know what you're doing, but I really don't think-"

A shove to the centre of his chest from just two massive digits knocked the wind from his vents and had him stumbling back, arms pinwheeling as he teetering on his heels. He rightened himself before he landed on his aft, rubbing at his plating, aghast. "What do you think you're-!"

"Plant yourself. Pedes apart." She ordered, and stepped into his personal space. She was huge, taller than Megatron, and when he failed to follow her orders she used her own heavy pede to kick his feet apart _for_ him, shoulder width apart. The action, and her closeness, made him want to do the opposite, to shrink down and curl up away from her.

"Wings down."

The air whooshed as wings shot down, Starscream tucking them back and close to his frame before she could lay her brutish hands on the sensitive metal.

She glared at him, then one of her huge servos shot out again and shoved him, knuckles thunking the armour over his spark chamber. He made an indignant noise but wasn't fast enough to stop her, instead stepping back with the (relatively) light blow. He didn't stumble.

"Good." Her voice was loud with praise. "Well done, little seeker. You are already learning."

Starscream glared sulkily at the juvenile praise, "Don't call me that." He growled. "It's _Starscream_. _Prince_ Starscream. I know you low-caste mecha struggle with titles but show some respect or-"

"Or what?" Starscream froze when her hand, scarred and calloused with years of fighting in the pit and years more of hard labour, caught his chin and tilted his face up. Her touch was gentle, but he swallowed, leaning up onto his toe pedes to lessen the strain on his craning neck as she tilted it higher, controlling him with the barest hint of pressure.

"Respect must be earned, _little seeker_." She said with deliberate emphasis on that hatefully infantile term. "Are you worthy of mine? Are you worthy of Lord Megatron's?"

The hand released him, and only when Starscream's vents sucked in air did he realise he'd held his breath. He rubbed his jaw, feeling for dents her careful fingers couldn't possibly have left.

Strika studied him for a moment. Now satisfied he'd been taken down by enough pegs to work with, she nodded. "Now you will learn how to take a punch."

Primus. Starscream looked past her bulk to where his trine and Soundwave were watching. Thundercracker was hiding behind his own hands and Skywarp was giving him two encouraging thumbs up.

Starscream was too busy throwing as dirty a look as he could manage Soundwave's way that he didn't see Strika's knuckles until they were about to imbed themselves in his face.

Lip split and energon in his mouth, he began to wonder if Thundercracker had been right. He wasn't built to be a warrior.

Which was unfortunate, because Strika didn't train 'quitters'.

 

* * *

 

Starscream hit the floor again. And again. And again.

And again he rose shakily to his pedes, and again he adjusted his footing, and again Strika struck out. He dodged. He defended as best he could. He span to get out of range, and _again_ fingers closed over a wing edge and hauled him back.

"Ack!"

He was light and easy for her to throw. He hit the floor, back scrapping sharply across the decking and scuffing off his paint. When he skidded to a stop he let his limbs fall to his sides loosely, staring at the ceiling in near defeat.

Strika's unsympathetic face appeared above himself, mouth pulled downwards into an impatient frown.

"Wings _down_ , little seeker." She droned for the hundredth time. "Do not give someone the opportunity to use them as handholds."

"-except Megatron!" Skywarp hollered from the sidelines, rather overexcited.

"I need a break." Starscream wheezed, shuttering his optics.

"There are no breaks in war." Strika countered, but it seemed she had something of a spark after all, because she extended a huge hand down, palm open.

Fearing a trick, Starscream took it cautiously. Blunt thick digits closed around his fingers and the powerful warrior hauled him up with a speed and force that had his pedes off the floor. A hand on his back steadied him when he wobbled upright, and as much as he would have liked to resentfully shove her away, he needed a moment to be sure he could trust his aching legs to keep him upright.

Everything hurt.

"But you are not at war yet." She purred, and gave him a firm pat on the back that sent him stumbling across of the ring. "Go. Rest."

She was happy to let him go, likely because she had another target in mind.

"You-!" She pointed at Skywarp, whose face drained of colour, optics as bright as headlights. She curled her fingers, beckoning him. "Come."

Skywarp was all stutters and stumbles when Soundwave urged him into the ring in Starscream's place. Starscream couldn't tell if it was for fear of her beating him up, or if it was just his crippling crush on her that was turning him into a nonsensical fool. Either way, he was sadly too run down to even take joy in watching him get his comeuppance.

"By the _Sky Gods_ ," Thundercracker hissed when Starscream limped close enough to the edge of the sparring room, Thundercracker apparently too petrified of violence to even _approach_ the ring.

He managed to inch away from the wall to take Starscream's face between his hands - _ouch-_ and turned it from side to side, thumb brushing his split lip. "Look at you!"

"It's worse than it looks." Starscream muttered self-pityingly, touching his lip. Though he couldn't see for himself what damage had been done, his entire face felt like a throbbing mess.

There was a slam and squeal behind them as Skywarp was tossed across the ring.

"Maybe you were right-" he began.

"No." Thundercracker denied abruptly.

Starscream looked up, hand falling from his mouth. Thundercracker was cringingly watching Skywarp get thrown about. "I was wrong. We're not war builds, and maybe that means this will be harder for us. But that's why it's all the more important we know how to defend ourselves. The wars only going to get worse-"

" _We_?" Starscream would have cocked a brow, but Strika must have punched some of his motor-functioning sensors out. His gears weren't responding properly. " _You're_ going to learn to fight?"

"Maybe not with her." Thundercracker whispered, wincing as they watched Strika pull Skywarp into a headlock. They couldn't tell if he was laughing or choking, but Strika was loudly calling him a 'foolish little nuisance'.

"You can really take a punch though, you know that?"

Starscream found Thundercracker staring at him with a new sort of appreciation. Oddly enough, he didn't like it. He shied away. "She wasn't hitting me that hard."

"She was." Thundercracker looked back to where Skywarp was trying to 'tap out' against Strika's arm, turning purple in the face.

Starscream wiped the energon away from his bottom lip and stepped back into the ring. Strika released Skywarp, who fell to the matt on all fours and started to crawl away, panting. "I'm out! I'm out!"

Starscream adjusted his stance in front of her, watching as she looked him up and down, battle computer searching out weaknesses.

"Ready for round two, Starscream?"

Starscream's smirk pulled at the split in his lip. It stung. He ignored it.

 

* * *

 

"I'm going to get some cooling packs." Thundercracker told Starscream hours later, finally in the safety of Megatron's rooms, lying on the floor and trying his best not to move.

Skywarp was also pretty sore, but given that he'd only been at Strika's mercy for five minutes, if that, he was being wise enough to keep quiet about it.

"Shouldn't we bring Knock Out up here too." Skywarp stage-whispered. "His face is pretty screwy."

Starscream decided to take Skywarp's word for it. He had avoided looking at his reflection in mirrored surfaces on the way up here, and had shielded himself with Thundercracker and Skywarp's unmolested finger-dent-free wings from any passing Decepticons. He squinted through his cracked optic at them, and gave them a vague nod of permission.

He needed someone to reset all the sensors in his face.

"Cosmetic damage!" Strika had told him. "Better your face than your spark."

Starscream wondered how many faces _she'd_ been through and ruined before getting to the one she currently had. Still, she'd been right. His torso, his cockpit and his chest plating were all relatively unharmed. It wasn't that she hadn't been aiming for them, but because she had taught him _how_  to defend them. Limbs were secondary, wings were secondary, his "pretty little seeker face" was secondary. Vanity had little place in battle. All that mattered was that he would walk, limp, even just roll away at the end of it all.

At least he could look forward to tomorrow, when it would be _his_ turn to hit _her_. Once she'd taught him how to throw a decent punch, that is.

"Be right back, Screamer." Skywarp called as the door slipped shut.

Starscream remained on the floor, and lifted a shaky hand to his spilt lip. He wondered if Strika had simply reopened the wound Cloud Tread had inflicted on him earlier in the week. She had been pulling her punches -a warrior of her caliber could throw a mech his size clean through the wall. When Cloud Tread had hit him, he'd wanted it to hurt.

Starscream wondered how many punches it would take to knock _him_ down.

Probably just the one...

The door swept open again and Starscream sighed, optics fluttering shut. "Good." He groaned, pushing hands to the floor to sit himself up, wincing when abused wings hung by their damaged hinges. "Did you get the cooling-"

Six Cloud Tread's stood inside the doorway, multiplied by the cracked glass of his left optic. None of them looked happy. Starscream offlined his damaged optic so there was only one again, frowning as best he could.

"What are you doing in here?" He hissed, struggling to get to his pedes. "You can't-"

"I warned the palace that this was no place for a prince." Cloud Tread said coldly, voice quiet. "Look at what they've _done_ to you."

Starscream's hand shot to his lip. His crumpled wings twitched behind him. "Like you give a slag. And If you _must_ know, I was training-"

"I know what you've been doing." Cloud Tread took a step closer. Starscream scrambled to his pedes. "And so does the palace, And when they, when _all_ of Vos see what these Decepticons have done to _their_ prince-"

"Nice story, Cloud Tread," Starscream spat, taking a wobbly step back. "Come up with it all by yourself?"

"It'll be all over the city." Cloud Tread shook his head in disappointment. "Vos offers Megatron an alliance, and Megatron returns their generosity by brutalising their prince-"

"No one will believe you!" Starscream snarled, Cloud Tread's pathetic game striking nerves now. "Megatron's not even _here_ -!"

Cloud Tread advanced another step. "Starscream, I have no choice but you bring you home-"

"Ha!" Starscream laughed in his face, but tripped against the bed.

"You'll be so much _safer_ away from here." Cloud Tread sneered. "The Winglord is making new arrangements for you as we speak. Iacon is much cooler in the summer, and Sentinel Prime has a great deal of respect for our traditions."

"I'd like to see you try and kidnap me in a fortress full of Decepticons!" Starscream curled his hands into fists. "You think I'd come with you willingly? Are you _insane_?"

"Don't worry about that." Cloud Tread brought something out of his subspace, a curved slab of metal. A gag, Starscream released with spiking fear. "I have friends awaiting us on the roof."

 


	15. Home Sweet Home

Starscream knew Cloud Tread and most of the palace seekers liked to think of him as stupid.

Since they'd given him no formal education and stifled his creativity since sparkling-hood, Starscream had never had much of a chance to prove otherwise. The most work his processor had ever gotten was figuring out how to avoid his round the clock security detail and coming up with elaborate stories on the spot as to why he was out of his quarters on the rare occasions he was caught sneaking in and out of his rooms.

Stupid or not, educated or not, he was a quick thinker, and in the split second between Cloud Tread showing him the gag and taking a step forward, Starscream weighed up the pros and cons of fighting his current situation, assessed the risks and rewards of just letting it happen, and stepped forward to meet the older seeker, hands up, nullrays disarmed.

"Fine."

Cloud Tread stopped short, having not anticipated this move. He had also probably been looking forward to dragging Starscream, kicking and screaming -or trying to behind the gag- out of the fortress.

"Fine?" He drawled, far from convinced.

"One warmonger doesn't differ much from the next," Starscream shrugged, internally shuddering at the idea of placing Megatron's charm and warmth in the same category as Sentinel's slimly smugness. "And... I'm willing to bet Sentinel's citadel has air conditioning."

It was a pretty poor indication of his true feelings that the only upside to ending up Sentinel over Megatron he could think of was that the Autobot was decadent enough to have better interior temperature control.

Cloud Tread, unfortunately, wasn't as stupid as Starscream liked to believe he was, and he knew an attempt at reverse psychology when it was being laid onto him.

"Good effort." Cloud Tread scoffed, and took one of Starscream's wrists, grip too tight on sensitive post-Strika armour and snapped it into a binder. "But any fool can see how enamoured you are with your low-caste gladiator. It's sickening. Pathetic, really."

Starscream's chest burned. "But you're taking me away for my own _safety_ , obviously." He repeated stiffly, sneering into Cloud Tread's face. "Because I don't know any better?"

Cloud Tread ignored the thick sarcasm and tugged his other wrist up to lock it into the binder, and knowing he was restrained and wouldn't be unable to fight back, slapped Starscream around the back head for good measure. Starscream's processor rattled around his helm. He was still blinking the dizziness from his gaze when Cloud Tread moved in to fasten the gag.

"You don't need that!" Starscream hissed, craning his neck to tilt his head back. "I said I was coming willingly!"

And he was. He had a plan. Not necessarily a plan to keep himself out of Vos and Sentinel Prime's greasy claws, but a plan nonetheless. A plan he had to trust Megatron to play a part in without ever getting the chance to discuss it with him. Hopefully, one he would be proud of.

The Decepticon leader wasn't here to concoct plots and machinations, but as his conjunx endura, Starscream supposed it was his job to hold his nerve and do it in Megatron's stead.

Either way, the Decepticons were not ready for the war to escalate so drastically, and so soon. They needed an airforce, and Starscream wanted Vos to survive the foolish decisions of their careless leaders.

He wasn't going to let the only two things he cared out -Megatron and his ancestral home- destroy one another over him.

So rather than continue to fight, he let Cloud Tread slap the gag on, wincing when the magnetic lock clacked his teeth together. He moaned, unable to vocalise or swallow.

"Much better." Cloud Tread muttered, and began clumsy detaching his nullrays, tossing them to the floor. Starscream watched them drop sadly, their shiny well-kept finishes scratching and scuffing as they skidded across the floor. "We might see about making that permanent." He tapped the gag over Starscream's mouth. "It suits you."

Starscream stored the mistreatment away in his memory banks to join every other abuse Cloud Tread had ever dealt out to him.

If this all went to plan, he'd be making Cloud Tread regret every single entry _very_ soon.

 

* * *

 

Sometime earlier, Soundwave watched the three seekers stumble back to Megatron's quarters via his extensive security network. They walked arm in arm, swaying together from the dizziness of Strika's rough treatment. Soundwave felt his unexpected fondness for them grow; even Starscream, as loud and contrary as he was, had managed to grow on him like a bad case of rust.

Despite Starscream's wishes for his training to come as a surprise to his conjunx, Soundwave would be remiss in not warning Megatron that the seeker he was sharing his berth with had been receiving military combat training. He began to enter it into the daily report for Megatron at Tyger Pax, keeping one optics on the seekers' progress through the halls. It hoped the news would be a happy note for Megatron to end his day on, that Starscream beginning to show interest in his new environment and culture would be something that would cheer him. Soundwave himself knew how unpleasant it could be on the frontline. How unpleasant it was to be separated from those you cared for. 

There were no cameras inside Megatron's quarters, and the bugs he had previously planted had now been removed due to Starscream's presence (Megatron would not be pleased to discover that audial recordings of his and his conjunx's lovemaking existed in Soundwave's security files) so when the Vosians slipped through the doorway Soundwave turned his attention away from the seekers to focus on completing his report instead.

He hadn't typed half a page before an encrypted frequency came in. He sent a ping request for an authorisation code, and the ten digit number came back within half a second. In the next moment, Megatron's scowling face was filling his console screen.

Soundwave was immediately on alert.

" _There's no one here_." Megatron frowned, staring off camera. His background was shifting as though he was walking somewhere quickly. " _The Decepticons are holding the base without interference and Blitzwing was not expecting my arrival. The hail for assistance we received was falsified. Why would-?"_

Soundwave was out of his seat in the next moment, spark dropping into his tank.

" _Soundwave_!" He heard Megatron's bark from the console, but he was already sprinting out into the corridor, pumping his legs as hard as he could in the direction of Megatron's command quarters.

He gripped the edge of the wall to make a sharp turn without having to slow down and almost bowled over three unsuspecting mecha. He saw wings and shiny armour and felt awash with relief. Briefly.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were _not_ with their trine-leader. The third mech was one of the medics, a shiny red sports car.

"Ah!" Skywarp cried, then recognised it was him. A wry smirk pulled at his mouth. "Oh, hi! I don't think I've ever seen _you_ run-"

"Your trine-leader." Soundwave grabbed Skywarp by the front of his armour, hauling him closer. "Where is he?!"

"Hey!" Thundercracker grabbed his wrist to pull him off Skywarp.

"He's in Megatron's quarters!" Skywarp yelped. "We were just getting him a-"

Soundwave didn't care to hear anymore, pushing Skywarp aside and continuing his run, faster now. Someone had sent Megatron away from the fortress for a reason. A reason that offered little to no tactical advantage in the war effort. It had to be politically motivated. It had to be Starscream.

He reached the door and palmed the access panel, shoulder cannon armed and ready to blow away any possible assailant.

The door swept open.

The room was empty.

Soundwave's gaze tracked down to the two nullrays left abandoned on the floor. He heard thunking footsteps coming down the corridor and knew Starscream's trine were running up behind him, breathless and panicking, calling Starscream's designation, demanding to know what was wrong.

Soundwave bent and picked up one of the nullrays. His visor scanned over the scuffs and scratches in the glossy paint Starscream never would have left there himself.

There was a scuff of beige paint rubbed into the barrel. Cloud Tread.

"Your trine-leader has been taken," He stated, rising and turning to face Starscream's pale, horrified trine. "By his so-called 'palace minder'."

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread's trine were awaiting their arrival on the roof, along with four mechs Starscream recognised as low ranking palace guards. Two of them wouldn't meet his glaring gaze when he was dragged towards them on the domed roof. Good, Starscream memorised their identifying rank numbers for later use. Their guilt could be useful for another cycle.

"Put up a fight, did he?" One of the less guilty looking guards came forward and looked him up and down, sneering and unsympathetic.

"This is how the Decepticons treat their guests." Cloud Tread said hauntingly. " _They_ did this to him."

"Why is he gagged?" One of the uncomfortable guards asked quietly.

"Because he doesn't always know what's best for him." Cloud Tread said sadly. Beside him Starscream watched his trine nod in solemn agreement. "Despite his ill treatment, he's become enamoured with Megatron. We've all heard tales of his seductive charms."

Starscream's optics rolled into the back of his helm. He wished he _had_ been victim to Megatron's 'seductive charms'. It would have been a nice memory to think back to during what was unlikely to be a short stay at the palace.

The guards were mollified by Cloud Tread's excuses, though they didn't seem in need of much convincing -so long as they had an excuse if this were all to go sideways, plausible deniability. An ' _we thought we were rescuing him_ ' excuse to fall back on.

Cloud Tread pushed him towards the guards and they took an arm each. No time to wait, he supposed, when they ignited their thrusters and hauled him up into the sky with them.

The sooner he arrived back in Vos, the sooner he could make them all regret ever dragging him back there in the first place.

 

* * *

 

Skywarp was hyperventilating by the time they got to the roof, breathing too fast to speak. Certainly too fast to think, his processor overwhelmed with a high-pitched buzz of internal panic. Soundwave wasn't running anymore, and Skywarp didn't know why. There was still time. Wasn't there was still time?

He squeezed himself through the gap in the door leading out to the open air before it had fully rolled back on it's track, stumbling out across the slopping tiles.

"Starscream!" He yelled, rushing out to the edge, looking left and right, looking up toward the sky, straining his optics for any sign of him even as his optics blurred with coolant. His vocaliser hitched. " _Star_!"

"Skywarp." Thundercracker's low voice was quiet. He was still by Soundwave, who was now crouched over a darkened section of the roof, running his digits over familiar looking scorches. Star-shaped marks commonly left by igniting thruster heels.

"Warm." Soundwave lifted soot covered fingers away, rubbing them together. "But not hot. We are too late."

Skywarp's vents hitched, chest tightening with every breath. "Okay, okay," he wiped his nose with a sniff. "C'mon TC." He waved him closer, stepping towards the edge of the roof. If they left now, they might be able to catch them before they reached the palace. If Starscream was putting up a fight, they'd be slowed down-

But Thundercracker wasn't moving. "Warp."

"Let's _go_!" Skywarp snapped, wondering why no one was fragging moving. "Why are you all just standing there! They took Starscream! They're gonna hurt him! They're gonna-gonna slagging pimp him out to that creepy Prime!"

Soundwave and Thundercracker watched him with sympathetically dim gazes. Soundwave lifted a hand. "Come." He ordered. "It is safer inside."

Skywarp couldn't give a slag about _his_ safety. "But Starscream-!"

"Megatron is on route." Soundwave told him, a warm palm landing on his shoulder, gripping comfortingly. He began to guide him back towards Thundercracker. "We will need his assistance in making plans."

"We don't need a stupid _plan_." Skywarp wailed, coolant trickling out his optics, only following Soundwave because he didn't know what else to do. Everyone was being so stupid and slow and Cloud Tread had Starscream, and Primus knew what he was going to do with him. Primus knew how they'd hurt him without Skywarp there to protect him. "We just need to kill them!"

"Sparks will be extinguished for this." Soundwave reassured him, ushering them both through the door, back into the warmth of the fortress. "Starscream's safety must be assured first."

 

* * *

 

 

Height meant status in Vos, so the city rose towards it's centre, where the palace spires reached into the clouds. Starscream's quarters sat at the top of the third tallest of these spires. The tallest two currently housed the Winglord and his high chancellor. Once upon a time the 'royal residence' existed in the tallest spire to reflect the Prince's status at the top of the hierarchy, so that they literally resided over Vos.

But that had changed many centuries before Starscream's creation, back when the council had risen to power within the palace and the royal house had become little more than political pawns.

As soon as they entered Vosian airspace Cloud Tread pulled back. Starscream wondered if it was to keep his hands clean, because he never usually passed up on the opportunity to push him around.

When they arrived at the palace the royal guards were ordered to take Starscream through one of the back entrances, not wanting his filthy Kaon-scuffed pedes to sully the polished marble of the grand entrance. Primus forbid any of the court saw him in the state he was; broken optic, bleeding, _gagged_.

They marched him into one of the air barracks, sealing the doors behind them. Two of the guards checked the room before Cloud Tread nodded his head and gave the all clear for them to take the gag off, like they feared Starscream was some sort of unruly banshee, prone to screaming his head off at the slightest provocation.

The guard removed the gag and Starscream didn't scream. Instead he sucked in a deep gratifying breath, swallowing painfully with his dry throat. He worked his jaw back and forth but was still handcuffed, and was unable to massage the sore joints.

"Home sweet home." He muttered, glaring around the barracks. "If it's all fine by you, Cloud Tread, I'd like to return to my quarters. Assuming they're still there and you haven't let them out to some senator you're trying to woo."

"Take him to the medbay." Cloud Tread told the guards as if Starscream hadn't spoken. "Record his injuries and keep him cuffed until he's been cleaned up and repaired. Have the medic check for any signs of gestation. A sparkling would still be useful."

Starscream dug his heels in when they began to haul him away again, thanking every Sky God looking down on him that Megatron had been chivalrous enough to reject his proposals, and that they had never come to an agreement on the production of sparklings. There was no chance he could be sparked, and Cloud Tread couldn't take a nonexistent spark away from him.

As he was carried off in the direction of the medbays, he looked around at his situation. Invasive medical checks? Bullying royal guards?

It was like he'd never left.

 

* * *

 

The smooth slide of the automatic doors opening to allow Megatron entrance into the command centre did not do his arrival justice. The room fell startlingly silent, as if to purposefully amplify his own harsh, fast vents.

Soundwave shrank at his arrival. His turmoiling emotions must have felt like a punch in the back telepath's head, but Megatron felt no sympathy.

The entire busy room seemed to grow smaller with every long purposeful stride he took towards the communications console. Soundwave's emitted a monotone noise that might have been the beginnings of a sentence, but Megatron pushed him aside, stabbing in the frequency for the Vosian palace and then bracing himself against the desk as his ringing audials listened to it dial.

The call was finally answered with a soft ping, and some official looking seeker with a palace worker's paint job stared back at him through the screen. She didn't appear surprised to find herself face to face with an infamous Decepticon warlord.

"Summon your Winglord," Megatron hissed, teeth together, desperate to bellow it instead.

The seeker tilted her head back, looking down her petite Vosian nose at him. " _The Winglord is otherwise engaged, and **you** do not have the clearance to speak with him."_

"We had a _deal_." Megatron felt his fingers denting the desk under his fingers. His armour locked tighter and tighter, till his struts _ached_ with the pent up rage building in his every bolt. "Yet one of his little minions saw fit to take something- some _one_ who was promised to me. Starscream is a _Decepticon_. He is _mine_ -"

" _I am not at liberty to reveal information regarding the Prince, or his supposed whereabouts_."

"You deny taking him?!" Megatron's optics surged so brightly they could have blown out.

Her lip twitched. " _Would you like me to relay a message to my superiors?_ " The seeker asked pleasantly enough, thin brow arched.

Megatron made sure to memorise her flippant little face. "Yes." He snarled, pushing himself up from his hunched position, straightening to his full impressive height. "Tell them their city is forfeit. As are their lives."

The smugness on her face fell, and with a tap of an elegant claw, the screen went blank. Megatron stared at the error message that popped up. **Access to this frequency revoked.**

"Pull every mech we have to spare and call my leitenents for a war council." He said, deliberately not to Soundwave, but to the meek looking vehicle pressed up against a databank towards his left, already whipping around to make his own arrangements.

The meek Decepticon's optics widened in surprise at being addressed by him directly. "Uh? W-What time should I arrange-?"

"Five minutes ago!" Megatron barked, shoving the sliding door out of his way when it didn't open fast enough for him, breaking the track and leaving it hanging askew.

 


	16. Silk

Cloud Tread smoothed his hands down his front, plucking a speck of dust from his cockpit and clearing his vocaliser. He checked his distorted reflection in the mirrored gold of the exterior doors leading into the Winglord's private study, and cast a glance at the pillar-stiff guards stood either side of them.

Paranoid as ever, Winglord Stellaforce never went anywhere, in or out of the palace, without an accompaniment of glimmering palace guards, just as much attractive accessories as they were a protection detail. As impractical as it could be getting through them all to even _glimpse_ Stellaforce, Cloud Tread had to admit it worked. He had reigned as Winglord for over fifty thousand years, surviving assassins and usurpers alike.

Perhaps because he was the worst of them.

Cloud Tread knocked, rapping his knuckles against the decadent doors, and stepped back as they clanked to unlock and began to swing forward on their automatic hinges. A cool breeze washed over him as he stepped over the threshold, keeping his optics downwards as he strode the length of the polished, gleaming study to where he had glimpsed the shimmer of a finely polished golden-edged wing out on the study's open balcony.

Stellaforce was elegantly posed across a chaise lounge, staring out across his city, a rounded glass of the finest energon a mech could find on the planet in his red, ring bejewelled hand.

Cloud Tread waited to be addressed.

"Is he well?" The Winglord didn't bother to draw his gaze away from the view.

"He was injured, your majesty," Cloud Tread lifted his chin. "But superficial damage can be repaired easily."

" _Injured_?" Stellaforce drawled. "By the Decepticons, or by you?" A clawed digit tapped the edge of the glass with a little clink. Stellaforce took a long, elegant drink from it. "I know you have a temper."

"They were his own doing. He was behaving inappropriately, as I mentioned in my communica-"

"I have neither the patience nor inclination to read your insipid reports." Stellaforce sighed, turning so the chains of gold and silk draped over his wings twinkled and clinked. "Your purpose is to deal with Starscream so _I_ don't have to, yet you seem to be causing more of a stir than he is. You told me Megatron was a good choice."

"Yes, my lord." Cloud Tread shifted uncomfortably under the Winglord's sharp, piercing gaze. His intimidating glamour made the judgement all the harsher. "Megatron was a mistake."

"You're telling _me_ he was a mistake." Stellaforce snorted into his glass. Then paused, arching a brow in interest. "Is he sparked?"

Cloud Tread's chest tightened with apprehension. A new heir to secure the Prince-ship was just about all Stellaforce cared about. With another heir -a sparkling that couldn't argue or fight or embarrass the entire palace- they wouldn't need to worry so much about Starscream. They could finally allow him to simply fade into 'obscurity'.

If only _someone_ hadn't decided to make a spectacle of their Prince in front of a great majority of the _planet's populace_.

"He is not."

To his relief, Stellaforce simply shrugged. "Not to worry, I have a feeling this may work to our advantage." He murmured into the rim of his glass, optics narrowed as he plotted. "The plan with Sentinel can go ahead. We'll consort Starscream to him, have the Prime sire a new prince."

"Starscream is already conjunxed." Cloud Tread reminded him.

Stellaforce looked utterly exhausted with him. "And nothing came of that conjunxing. He failed to bear Megatron an heir so I'll simply annul it."

The benefits of being Winglord. Cloud Tread ducked his helm in understanding. "No doubt, you will have heard-"

"That said warlord is out for ours heads." Stellaforce tipped back the rest of his energon like a shot, downing it in one. "Yes, I have heard. That's where Sentinel comes in. I'm sure he'll keep whatever Megatron might throw our way at bay. The greatest airforce on the planet _and_ a charming royal consort in the exchange for his armies protection?" Stellaforce mimed weighing the options in his hands. "An easy decision to make."

He rose from his chaise lounge and swept past Cloud Tread, long silks dragging across the polished floor as he swanned off to his next appointment. "Make sure he's presentable." He called over angular wing. "The Prime is on route, and if we want to save our sparks, we'd better prepare this union quickly."

 

* * *

 

Megatron's optics stung from the strain of staring at blue-tinged holographic maps so late into the night. Vos had been built in a spiral pattern, with streets that curled and twisted and went around and around until they reached the palace at it's centre, structures stretching high into the sky. It was an admittedly difficult city to launch an attack against, unlike any he had conquered before.

It wouldn't be easy. Not when their soldiers flew, and so few of his did.

"Megatron."

Megatron looked up at Soundwave's hollow call of his name. His lieutenant had been up most of the night at his side, and looked worse for wear for it. Megatron recalled his mistreatment of him earlier, and felt regret for it now. They had _both_ fallen victim to Cloud Tread's plot, but Soundwave, unlike himself, hadn't made a sworn oath to protect Starscream.

That had been his job alone.

And he'd failed in it, skipped off to the front-lines without a thought for how utterly foolish it was to have left Starscream behind with those palace seekers.

"You are not at fault." Soundwave made an attempt at consoling him.

Megatron ducked his head, bracing his fists against the light panels projecting the holograms of Vos. "Regardless of fault, I need to bring him back. I promised him-"

"It is within no one's interest to damage Starscream. He is still their prince, even as a prisoner." Soundwave reassured. 

"They hit him." Megatron snapped his head up, glaring at Soundwave. "I've seen evidence of it."

"Megatron; underestimating the strength of Starscream." Soundwave reminded him, sounding a tad reproachful. "He would be displeased to hear you would believe him so easily disturbed."

"You think that because he can take a hit, I don't need to worry!?"

"Negative." Soundwave nodded. "It is not because Starscream can weather abuse, but that he can do so stoically. He has shown himself as adept at slipping out of trouble."

Megatron grunted. He was going to worry regardless of how well he could assume Starscream was coping.

"You are required in your quarters." Soundwave continued when he tried to refocus on the maps.

"Why?" He snapped. Starscream wasn't there, and he wasn't going to let Soundwave trick him into recharging when there was still work to be done, strategies to form, troops to rally. He did not require recharge. He did not _want_ recharge. Not alone in an empty berth.

But he'd forgotten Starscream wasn't the only seeker he had been made responsible for.

"Thundercracker and Skywarp are showing signs of increasing distress." Soundwave waved a hand through the hologram to deactivate it and regain his full attention. "They require company."

Megatron's spark twisted. He couldn't neglect Stasrcream's trine anymore than he could Starscream himself. "You can't do it?"

"They ask for you."

Of course they did. Megatron thumped a fist against the projector in frustration. "Fine. But I'll be back."

"Suggestion; recharge."

"Take your own advice!" Megatron barked back, shouldering through the doorway.

 

* * *

 

They didn't leave Starscream alone for the longest time.

Guards hauled him from medic to medic. They checked his gestation systems first -which just showed their priorities- then sent him for cosmetic repairs, after that, lastly, were mechanical repairs.

He endured it all with uncommonly good behaviour. With any luck the palace was already arranging for a new suitor -Sentinel Prime, by the unfortunate looks of things- and these arrangements weren't done by half measures. The palace would want to throw a party in Sentinels honour, dress Starscream up in the finest accessories to impress the Prime, and invite half the city. Enough pomp and circumstance would distract Sentinel from the miserable nature of the consort he was agreeing to take, and make it all the easier for the Winglord to get the council to go along with the last minute change.

Starscream recalled the last time Sentinel had visited the palace, sending the staff into chaos with the preparation. His minders had dressed him up better than he'd ever been, slapping his fidgeting wings when they draped heavy silks across them, wanting him pretty before practical.

"Don't touch them." He remembered Cloud Tread smacking his hand away from the liquidly-smooth silk. "These are the Winglord's and you're only borrowing them."

Starscream had gotten the impression than the silks remaining in their pristine condition was a much more important factor than _him_ remaining in functional condition. They didn't care that the silks were too heavy for his smaller frame, how they weighed down his wings and put a strain on the hinges. They would jab him in the back to make his stand straighter, demand he hold his aching wings high so the expensive silks weren't dragging across the floor.

He remembered stepping on the tail of one of the silks on his way down the ballroom staircase, and being yanked straight from the party and locked in his quarters before Sentinel's entourage had even arrived.

He'd certainly never been allowed to wear the Winglord's accessories again.

When he was finally let back into his rooms, cleaned up and suitably unruffled, one of Cloud Tread's trine-mate's ordered him to get some recharge to 'rid himself of that tired, aged look'. Starscream had pulled a face, and Cloud Tread's trine-mate had stationed four guards inside his quarters to watch him.

Fortunately, he outranked Cloud Tread's little minion.

"Stand outside." He ordered the guards with a flippant little wave.

One hesitated (probably new here), but when the other three filed out obediently, he followed too. Starscream watched the door slip shut and slumped in relief.

Primus, he thought, moving to view himself in front of his large floor-to-ceiling length mirror, what a day.

He twisted to view his reflection. There had been no mirrors in Kolkular, so it was a novelty being able to view his own wings again. It hadn't been long since he had left Vos for Kaon, only a few weeks, yet standing here now, in front of the mirror he'd frowned at every day growing up, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

He touched his face, wondering if he looked as different as he felt. Or if it was all in his processor.

He reached into his subspace and withdrew the dagger Megatron had given him when they'd conjunxed. The lazy guards hadn't bothered to check his subspace, but in their defence, they weren't particularly accustomed to frisking Princes for weaponry. He rubbed his digits along the hilt fondly, wondering how Megatron was handling his absence.

Or more specifically, how he was handling his _trine_ in his absence.

 

* * *

 

They were in his berth, Megatron noted when he stepped into his quarters.

Not an unusual occurrence. Starscream recharged with them when Megatron himself wasn't present to act as his berth mate. He needed the company, and Megatron wasn't so possessive, nor ignorant of trine dynamics, to feel any need to put a stop to it. It seemed they had become accustomed to inviting themselves beneath the covers regardless of whether Starscream was present to grant them permission.

Megatron had the distinct impression that it was _their_ berth now, and _he_ was the guest.

" _You'd be jealous_ ," he recalled Starscream teasing him that night at the Jump Joint, a little tipsy, a little playful. " _If I explained it."_

" _Why would I be jealous of your trine?"_

" _For starters, they will be with me forever. And you, will not."_ Starscream sipped his high-grade and nodded. " _You're a grounder. There's no point explaining_."

Megatron frowned at the two seekers in his berth, curled up together around a pillow, clinging to it for dear life. They had their nose's buried in it, olfactories searching for the remaining scent of their trine-leader, trying to draw comfort from it.

Soundwave was correct. They certainly seemed to be struggling in Starscream's absence. Perhaps even more so than he. There was a deep bond at work between trine's -that, he already knew- but Thundercracker and Skywarp's loyalty seemed to run deeper than traditions and programming.

They obviously loved Starscream deeply.

As did he.

He swept his sympathy aside and tugged the covers off them. They both sat up with a start, Skywarp tucking the pillow under his chin protectively, optics wide and imploring and hopeful. "You've found him?"

"No." Megatron pulled the pillow out of his grasp, ignoring Skywarp's distraught lunge to retrieve it as he held it over his head, "I've come to put an end to your moping."

Thundercracker crossed his arms defensively, but his serious demeanour was undermined by the damp fluid channels under his optics. "We are _not_ moping-"

"You're curled up in my berth sobbing into his pillow." Megatron brandished the thing angrily. "Clean your faces and get a grip, both of you. I need you downstairs."

"Us?" Thundercracker ducked when Megatron threw the pillow back at the berth.

"No one in this fortress has a better knowledge of Vos and it's palace than you two." Megatron pointed between then. "You want Starscream back? Then I'll need your help."

Skywarp sniffed loudly and climbed out of the berth, a determined, purposeful expression on his face. "We'll help, but only if you take us with you when you rescue him."

"Warp!" Thundercracker yelled, alarmed.

"That is unwise. You're untrained."

"We're fast fliers." Skywarp stuck his chin up.

"If you were hurt..." Megatron began, thinking of Starscream and how he'd never forgive him if he lead his trine into danger. "No, I cannot risk you. You're too vulnerable."

"We're not as vulnerable as you think." Skywarp muttered, casting his optics Thundercracker's way. "We're _special_ , you know. There's a reason we were trined with the prince. Starscream's creator picked us when we were all bitlets."

Megatron didn't have time for a history lesson. "The only mech I have available to train you is Strika. And she is not kind." He tried to warn them off.

"We can handle Strika." Skywarp folded his arms smugly. "And we will, for Starscream. Right TC?"

Thundercracker looked considerably paler at the idea.

 

* * *

 

Cloud Tread reappeared sooner than Starscream had been hoping he would, followed by two guards, his fashion-inept trine-mates, three other minders, and the palace stylers. Starscream groaned.

"Get up." Cloud Tread snapped his digits. "It's going to take all afternoon to scrub the stench of Kaon off your armour."

"You're in a good mood." Starscream muttered, getting to his pedes before the guards could yank him upright at Cloud Tread's command. He wondered what had the old coot so wound up and impatient. Starscream would have thought he'd be happy, especially with an afternoon of insulting and abusing Starscream ahead of him. That usually brightened the jerk right up.

Cloud Tread, sadly, did not rise to his bait, ignoring the jab.

And there went Starscream's afternoon entertainment.

He had already been cleaned up by the repair assistant drones down in the palace medcentre, but a light scrub with solvent wasn't good enough for a Prince wanting to impress a Prime. He had to endure a thorough cleaning with solvent strong enough to burn out the olfactory sensors in his nose. It went under the armour, between seams, chilly and uncomfortable everywhere it dripped. Then came a two hour soak in an oil bath - that, he didn't complain about half as much.

Cleaned up and free of dust, grime, oil, and whatever other contaminants he might have picked up in Kaon, he was pushed up into the platform his minders used to judge him before a big event.

Cloud Tread walked around him with his nose crinkled in dissatisfaction, pointing out any imperfection he could see for the stylist to note down for touching-up, every scuff and cut, every patch of faded paint, and especially-

"-get rid of those disgusting things." He pinged a finger against the purple insignias on Starscream's wings. "He'll look much better in Autobot red. It suits his colour palette."

"Bit preemptive, isn't it? Slapping an _Autobot_ badge on me?" Starscream arched a brow.

"As far as Sentinel knows, you're a loyal supporter." Cloud Tread warned. "Besides, the red will work well with the silks the Winglord has sent down."

Starscream's optics brightened. Silks?

He looked over Cloud Tread's shoulder just as his minders came back through the door carrying long folded trails of silk between them, luscious crimson, glossy and red, moving with liquid-like fluidity where it rested along their forearms. Another seeker held a box full of golden disks designed to clip the silk to his wings. Each was bejewelled with at least a dozen deep red rubies.

Starscream wondered what would happen to him if he dared to scratch one the clips, or accidentally stepped on the silk again.

Death penalty, probably.

But well well well, he thought, as the stylist painted over Decepticon purple, washing over Megatron's claim on him, weren't the palace keen to impress Sentinel.

After all this effort, it'd be a great shame if something were to go wrong...

 


	17. Wardrobe Malfunction

Starscream's fingers tingled in anticipation, his frame a tight knot of tension all wrapped in silk and gold. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in the silver polished floor when they'd lead him towards the grand hall, and his tank had dropped when the reflection staring back at him looked more like the Winglord, than it did him.

And to think, after how many vorns he had wasted admiring the aloof older seeker -his beauty, his grace, his poise, even the cruel curl of his mouth when he looked down everyone- the thought of being anything like him now, like _any_ of the palace or the council or Cloud Tread and his minions, made Starscream feel physically unwell.

It was just a glamour, he reminded himself, hands fisted at his sides under reams of silk. They could use all the gold and paint on the planet, but he was still himself.

The doors to the staircase that led to the grand hall were ahead of him, but he was being made to wait for his 'escort'. He shifted his footing and shot a glare at Cloud Tread, confident in the knowledge that the impatient twitchy seeker wouldn't lash out physically and risk ruining his appearance if he dared to be rude.

"What is taking so long?" He snapped. "Who am I waiting for? Sentinel himself?"

His tank rolled at the thought of walking arm in arm down the steps with the Prime. It would hinder his plan greatly if he had to spend the entire evening trapped at the Autobot's side.

"No." Cloud Tread stood facing the corridor to the palace's East Wing, which led to the royal quarters. "He would like a few words with you first."

" _He?_ " Starscream hissed, poking his head around Cloud Tread's wing just as the doors to the East Wing swept open and out spilled a private army's worth of royal guards. Most of them split away and headed off to their stations, but some remained, framing their bejewelled, handsome charge.

Starscream snapped his gaze forward again, biting his tongue when out of his peripheral vision he watched the Winglord shoo Cloud Tread off with a casual wrist flick. Cloud Tread slinked off, but Starscream took no pleasure in seeing him go. At least with Cloud Tread he always knew what to expect.

"Don't you look handsome." The Winglord murmured, silks brushing Starscream's own when he came to stand next to him. Starscream could smell his polish, rich expensive rock crystal, the sort he himself favoured.

"Your majesty." He said stiffly, keeping his gaze on the floor, glaring hard at his own stunning reflection. "You don't usually deign to mingle with the lowly prince. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh you do exaggerate, Starscream." The Winglord breathed, and extended an arm for Starscream to take. "We've always been friends, haven't we now?"

Reluctantly, Starscream slipped his arm into the Winglord's, half expecting the older seeker's armour to be as cold and lifeless as his cruel optics. It wasn't. It was warm and flawlessly smooth. Starscream hated touching him. Hated being near him.

And he hated most of all how _hard_ it was to hate him.

The Winglord lifted a manicured hand and brushed Starscream's face carefully, finger pads lightly grazing his cheek. Starscream held himself in place, knowing better than to flinch away. It wasn't wise to show weakness in front of this mech.

"A terrible shame what happened in Kaon." The Winglord's optics softened as he took him in. "The fault of poor advice, I'm afraid."

"It was _your_ decision." Starscream glared, not as easily tricked by the Winglord's charms and lies now as he had been in his youth. " _You_ met with Megatron. _You_ arranged it."

The Winglord looked exasperated, "I was _sent_ by the council." He shook his head, clever crimson optics glancing towards the ceiling. "But when I heard how you were being mistreated-"

"So you'll take credit for my kidnapping?" Starscream quirked a brow.

The Winglord's easy going demeanour slipped. "I'll take credit for saving your life."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Starscream hissed when they started moving, taking slow steady steps towards the staircase. "You had an arrangement with Megatron."

"Megatron's actions were putting you in danger." The Winglord said, sure and easy. "He proved himself incapable of handling you, so what chance would he have with our airforce? Taking up arms against the Autobots to aid him would have put us on the losing side."

Starscream didn't believe for a second that this had anything to do about the Decepticons chances in the war. "You're a liar."

He refused to look at the Winglord but he could practically hear his eye-roll. " _Really_ , I don't know _what_ you're fussing about. Sentinel is a competent leader and a handsome mech-"

" _You_ be his consort then."

"-his home is beautiful, and Iacon is a place of culture and science." The Winglord continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You'll be far better suited there."

"So this is all for my benefit?!" Starscream hissed, optics burning. "What if I told you I wanted to go back."

"You can't go back. Your life would be forfeit."

"It's _my_ life."

"It is _not_ your life to throw aside." The Winglord's hand landed on his and gripped it tight in warning. "Not until you have produced an heir-"

"From what I can tell, when a prince _does_ produce an heir they meet with an unfortunate though _timely_ end."

The Winglord glanced at him, sharp optics considering. He sighed sadly, "Only if they forget their place."

The fuel in Starscream's lines burned at the thought of the creator he could barely remember, but by then they finally reached the top of the staircase. He had to sweep pain and grief aside for the task ahead of him. The Winglord still gripped his hand, keeping him close and under control.

"Smile." He advised, just before they stepped into view of the crowded grand hall.

Heads and wings turned, the guests' attention zeroing in on them. Glimmering opulently in gold and jewels their appearances had been specifically designed to catch the optic of every seeker in the room. Starscream wished it hadn't worked so well.

When the Winglord stepped down onto the first step Starscream made sure to match his pace, a little frown creasing his brow as he thought too hard on how to move as gracefully as the Winglord and prevent his pedes from stepping on the silks pooling all around them. Shaky legs helped little.

From his vantage point, he scanned the room. The Autobot entourage had yet to arrive, but as he had expected, half of Vos had been invited. As his gaze passed over the crowded room he sneered at the familiar council members, the chancellor, and at Cloud Tread's lingering trine, before he finally glimpsed the darker silhouettes of the Vosian Air Command- who, despite being military and not government, had been invited to the proceedings to help smooth over the union of the Vosian airforce with Sentinel's Autobot enforcers.

They didn't look happy. But whether it was at the military/political arrangement or simply for having been made to attention the stifling party in the first place, Starscream couldn't tell. General Slipstream looked particularly annoyed, and having somehow managed to get past the security gates in possession of her full personal armoury weapons, looked ready to behead the first politician that tried to make small talk.

With any luck she stuck around long enough for Starscream to lose his _escort_.

When he and the Winglord reached the bottom of the stairs the crowd that had gathered to coo and gush over the two most royal seekers in the palace had quickly been dispersed by the Winglord's overbearing guard. Starscream expected the Winglord to turf him back off on one of his minders or Cloud Tread, now that they had arrived together looking like the best of friends, but the Winglord kept hold of him, steering him towards a small group of council members.

Starscream endured the chorus of hollow compliments and tutting comments -"Don't you clean up well," "Nice to see you looking princely for once Starscream," "You'd wear those silks much better if you didn't slouch so," "Try smiling, Star, the Prime doesn't want to consort a misery now, does he?"

"May I be _excused_." Starscream smiled through his teeth at the Winglord.

"You have somewhere else to be?" The Winglord murmured, arching a brow.

Starscream tried hard not to slump, or make such an obvious show of looking around the room. The military seeker's had wedged themselves into one of the far corners, as far as they could get themselves from the pomp and glamour of the politicians already shunning them anyway. They would run out of patience soon, and leave early, and Starscream _had_ to get to them before then. He would never get another chance. This was likely to be his last public appearance in Vos.

As the Winglord nattered on with the council mechs about what sort of benefits they could expect from combining their forces with the Autobots, a serving drone passed by with a tray of enegex served in fancy tall glasses. The council mechs each took one as they laughed and congratulated themselves on a crisis averted, and so did the Winglord. Just as the drone was about to zoom off back into the crowd Starscream leant out of the Winglord's grasp and managed to snag one off the tray for himself.

He had the glass at his lips and could smell the rich high grade when Cloud Tread emerged from the blur of colourful wings and plucked it right out of his grasp before disappearing again. Starscream stared at his empty hand.

They had to be kidding. He wasn't even allowed to _drink_ to get through this thing?!

He was sick of standing in silence like the dutiful little prince eveyone wanted him to be, and he was _sick_ of listening to the Winglord carry on and on about how clever he and he council were for making this stupid arrangement with Sentinel, and laughing about how outnumbered those hapless Decepticons were going to be, and what sort of execution was going to await that would-be-conquerer Megatron when his empire fell to the Autobots.

So he flicked his wing back, catching a strip of silk between his hinges, and flicked again, until he heard a harsh rip.

The Winglord stopped mid-sentence, optics paling at the sound. "Did you just-!"

"Excuse me." Starscream smiled sweetly, and managed to extract his arm from the hand of the shocked Winglord, whose favourite wing adornments he just _destroyed_ right in front of him. "Wardrobe malfunction."

He hadn't made it two steps in the buzzing crowd of aristocrats before he heard the Winglord clicking his fingers and directing two of his guards to follow him. Starscream walked fast, keeping them behind him as he crossed the grand hall.

"My prince." He heard one of the guards call to him. "Your minder can see to you in the lobby."

Starscream waved a hand back at him, not giving a slag about the torn silk. "I don't want a 'minder'." He hissed, finally reaching the end of the hall where the military high command had hidden themselves. "I'd rather have a friend."

Slipstream had been busy sneering at a group of dainty socialites, but looked up when he reached her, her face contorting in horror. " _Friend?!"_

"Yes." Starscream hissed, catching her wrist and tugging her away from her lieutenants. "To _help me_ with my _wardrobe malfunction_."

Slipstream's optics surged when she saw the silk, horror morphing into disgust. "Oh, _Pit_ no-"

"Come on!" He tugged her towards the huge curtains hiding a set of palace balconies that overlooked the gardens.

"You two wait in here." He called to the guards, slapping the curtains aside with a flurry of heavy fabric.

He pushed through to the other side, dragging Slipstream with him, but she was taller and heavier than him, so when she dug her heels in and refused to be dragged any further, they stopped just on the other side of the curtains.

They were still within audial range of the guards, so Starscream tugged again, mouthing at her silently. " _Come on_."

" _What is this_?" She hissed, but walked with him towards the end of the balcony, glancing back at the curtains. "I'm not one of your loyal little palace servants, here to dress you and polish you and wipe your snotty little nose, you know."

"Primus, I know. You can barely dress yourself. I need to _talk_ to you." Starscream growled, getting her to the end of the balcony, where, with any luck, they wouldn't be overheard. Below them lay the palace's crystals gardens, glinting in the night, the lights of the shining palace reflected in the towering crystals' surfaces. It was like looking out across two sets of stars.

"It's in your best interests to listen to me." He advised.

There was a snort of disbelief. Slipstream leant against the balcony railing and crossed her arms over her cheek. "Oh really. Is that your idea of a threat?"

It was unfortunate now, his and Slipstream's mutual dislike of one another. He had always thought of her as an arrogant grunt, a solider that thought herself above her station, and she must have thought of him as a spoilt lazy brat, with no sense of responsibility or duty. They were far from friends, but even with all the sway her military power gave her, he had never known her to abuse it.

Or abuse him.

Even if they did hate one another.

"Megatron is going to attack the city." He cut straight to it.

Slipstream's reaction was less than impressed. She arched a brow. "No he's not."

"Yes he is. I know him-"

"You spent -what? A _week_ as a Decepticon punching bag and now you're an expert on their military strategy?" She huffed a laugh. "Megatron's not fighting us, he's fighting the Autobots."

"We're _siding_ with the Autobots, you flying brick." Starscream hissed, "We _are_ his enemy now."

"In the grand scheme of things, we're beneath his notice. It would be strategically disadvantageous for him to attack Vos without an airforce. He's not going to risk his entire war campaign over a little political spat."

"Little spat? The council promised him the airforce. They promised him _me_. He's going to want it back-"

"He knew the offer of the airforce was conditional."

"But I wasn't." Starscream jabbed himself in the chest. "He cares about me. He'll want me back."

Slipstream's gaze darkened. "Starscream, he hit you."

Starscream rolled his optics. "Is there a single seeker in this blasted palace that doesn't believe that stupid rumour?! He didn't hit me! The only mech who hits me is Cloud Tread-"

Slipstream's brow creased. "Cloud Tread is one of your -"

Starscream didn't have time to get into that right now. "Just listen to me. He is going to attack the city, your airforce, the palace-"

"How can you be sure of-"

"Because they _took_ me!" Starscream stamped his pede. "But _you_ control the airforce, the military, you can-"

"They're not my personal army. I answer to the palace." She interrupted quickly.

"I _am_ the palace."

"The palace is the Winglord, the council." Slipstream looked down on him coldly. "You're just-"

"Just the Prince they stole those powers from?"

Slipstream looked aside. "Why are you telling me all this? What are you trying to scheme this time?"

Starscream scowled at the implication that he had _ever_ schemed. "When Megatron comes-"

"If."

" _When_ he comes, stand down."

Slipstream's optics flared, "Are you insane-?!"

"Stand down. Let him in-"

"So he can raze the city?"

"Only the palace. He only wants me."

"You want me to be complicit to your treason?"

"I want you to _save the city_. Because Sentinel's Autobots won't help you. And maybe your seekers do have the advantage of the skies, but Megatron outnumbers you six to one."

Slipstream shook her head, looking out toward the stars. "Must be nice."

"What?"

"To be so deluded you'd think one of the most powerful mechs on the planet would be willing to throw his life's work away for _you_."

She cast him one last disbelieving look, and turned away, disappearing through the curtains and taking Starscream's hopes with her.

"Jerk!" He yelled, but his voice was lost to the strong crosswind on the high balcony.

He took a moment to recompose himself, reaching back and yanking the silk out of his wing hinge, hearing another rip but not caring in the slightest. He needed a backup plan, and he needed one fast. The Prime would be arriving any moment now.

He stepped through the curtains, back into the grand hall just as the music died down, and the ceremonial horns blared to announce the arrival of their guest of honour.

Starscream's spark jumped into his throat, as there, at the top of the staircase, stood Sentinel Prime in all his Autobot glory.

Curse the Autobots and their punctuality.

 


	18. An Assassin Under The Bed

Sentinel Prime had arrived, and for a brief moment, Starscream seriously considered simply throwing himself from the balcony and fleeing into the crystal gardens. He would buy himself some much needed time, but would lose what little trust he'd gained from those tasked with watching him. And he needed that trust. He needed their leniency. Their false sense of security.

As tempted as he was, there'd be little point in it. He couldn't leave the city and the guards would happily return him to the palace in restraints.

And he couldn't very well slap Sentinel around the face when the Prime made his inevitable move on him if his hands were tied behind his back now, could he?

He began making his way back across the grand hall to rejoin the Winglord at the centre of the marble floor -but he didn't get more than three steps before a clawed hand was wrapping around his upper arm and dragging him forwards at twice the speed. Starscream's already monumental challenge of looking calm and casual dressed in all his _tat_ became that much harder.

"Where were you?" Cloud Tread leant close to his audial to growl. "You were supposed to be awaiting the Prime's arrival with the Winglord! Not off flirting with those common military types."

Starscream trotted to keep up, being careful not to step on any more of the expensive fabric dangling off him. He flashed a smile, just because he knew it would infuriate Cloud Tread that much more. "I was trying to play hard to get. No wonder _you're_ alone-"

Cloud Tread steered him into place at the Winglord's side. _Too_ close to his side, it seemed. Out of the corner of Starscream's optics he saw the Winglord cast him a disapproving look, and with a sigh, Starscream took an obedient step back, placing himself very firmly _behind_ the Winglord, and just in time too.

Sentinel finished shaking hands with the ancient looking council mechs, and turned keen, vibrant blue optics on them.

"Stella," Sentinel greeted the Winglord like they were old friends, arms open wide.

Starscream hid a smirk at the twitch the nickname brought to the Winglord's stoic face, until Sentinel turned electric blue optics on _him_ next. His warm tone was jarring when he greeted Starscream with an equally over-familiar, "And Star. Vos's great beauties."

Starscream fixed his smile in place, using the Winglord's position in front of him to his advantage now, watching Sentinel's huge servos as they gestured to the grand halls opulence and general atmosphere.

Almost as big as Megatron's, he noted, keeping his wings back and his hands clasped so Sentinel would have to reach around the Winglord's stiff frame to make a grab at him. Just in case.

His living shield didn't put up with it for long though. The Winglord stepped to the side and gestured with a silk draped arm for him to come forwards. View now unobscured, Sentinel's optics tracked down Starscream's frame. Slowly. Lingering. Soaking in the sight of him. Starscream felt a itch, like cosmic rust eating it's way under his armour.

He almost glanced down to check. But it wasn't rust. Just Sentinel's lecherous gaze.

He felt cold when Sentinel reached for him, ready to flinch. But fingers only threaded in the silks across his shoulders, rubbing them between a blunt thumb and forefinger appreciatively. Audials muffled, Starscream didn't realise he was being spoken to until he saw Sentinel's lips move.

"- almost mistook you for the Winglord." Sentinel was murmuring. Clearly, he meant for it to be a compliment.

"Because all seekers look the same to you?" Starscream couldn't help himself.

Sentinel's brow arched, but whatever he might have said in response was lost to the Winglord's strategic laugh- airy and loud and dreadfully fake. "He has his _late_ creator's sense of humour." The Winglord's smile was all teeth and stress. He took Starscream by the shoulders, hard. "More wit than sense, I fear."

"Hm," Sentinel straightened, looking down his nose at Starscream. He was tall. His jaw squared and masculine. His neck thick and shoulders broad. But Starscream was sure if he stretched onto his toe pedes and leaned in, he'd be just tall enough to reach - and sink his dagger into the soft, metal mesh under Sentinel's chin.

Sentinel's observation of him dragged on, and Starscream could feel the tension coming off the council seekers' in waves as they watched, waited. Starscream could sense Cloud Tread stood at attention somewhere behind him, ready and waiting to drag him off should he so much as glance at the Prime wrong.

Then, finally, Sentinel's face broke into a smile.

The cruel, promising sort.

Starscream's fuel tank dropped out of his undercarriage.

"Very witty." Sentinel praised, smirking. "Nothing I haven't handled before, Stella." The Prime nodded to the Winglord. "In fact, I rather enjoy a consort with a bit of spark."

Stellaforce visibly relaxed and the council seekers were already clapping one another on the back. The Winglord lifted a hand to Starscream's back, patting him between the wings like he was well trained turbo puppy.

"Wonderful. We'll see about making the arrangements for his permanent shift to Iacon tomorrow."

Sentinel nodded, and it seemed it was all they had need of Starscream for now because Sentinel was already turning to readdress the council. "Now I suppose you'll want something in return for him..."

Starscream was ushered back into Cloud Tread's hands, but before he could be turned and marched out of the grand hall -the less time he spent at these parties the better, in the councils' opinion- the Winglord broke away from the group to stop them.

Starscream braced himself for impact.

But it was _Cloud Tread_ the Winglord sunk claws into and dragged forward by the cockpit, voice low and optics alight. "Those silks he destroyed on your watch have belonged to over ten generations of royals." He hissed. " _Fix_ them. Or I'll do the same to your _wings_."

He released Cloud Tread with a shove and swept off with a swirl of fabric back into the gathering. Cloud Tread was left rubbing his chest and gritting his denta in resentment.

Starscream glared, hating how much he admired the Winglord some days.

 

* * *

 

Megatron rubbed his aching helm, spark sick and weary. Thundercracker and Skywarp sat across from him, their wings low and hands fidgeting, claws scratching at the table. The encrypted communication from Soundwave's intelligence network laid open in front of them. It had taken a great effort on his part not to slam his fist into it and crush it.

The message was brief. Starscream was whole and well in the Vosian palace. His previous union had been annulled by the Winglord and within the hour he had been promised to Sentinel Prime, who had arrived on schedule to 'view' his consort and begin preparations for an alliance.

"They can't just annul your ceremony!" Skywarp burst out after a long stint of silence.

"The Winglord can." Thundercracker said sadly.

"A Vosian one, yes." Megatron straightened with a growl, folding his arms. "But not a Tarnish one."

Thundercracker's optics brightened as he made the connection in his head. "Then, you're still conjunxed-?"

"Not gonna stop Sentinel from dragging Screamer off to Iacon, is it," Skywarp muttered miserably. He glared at the marks he had left in the table. "I heard he locks his consorts up in the citadel. Never let's them out. Keeps them all to himself. If he takes Starscream to Iacon -that's smack bang in the middle of 'Bot territory! We'll never be able to get him back out."

"Starscream will not be leaving Vos with Sentinel." Megatron reassured firmly, clasping his hands behind his back. To all appearances, he looked every bit in control of the situation. "That, you can be sure of."

"It'll be morning by the time you've mobilised your forces," Thundercracker began. "And Starscream-"

"Starscream will have been removed from the city entirely." Megatron agreed with a nod. "But not by Sentinel."

Skywarp and Thundercracker stared at him. Dumbstruck.

"I'm hardly going to attack Vos with my conjunx still _in_ it." He glared at them, annoyed at their lack of faith in him. "Do you have any idea what happens to a city when it's attacked by a foreign power? As soon as the walls fall it's every mech for themselves. I don't care how slippery and clever your trine-leader _thinks_ he is, I won't attack until I know he's out of that palace-shaped-target and safe with my agent."

"Agent?!" Skywarp blurted. "You've already sent someone to get him?! If that was the plan, why are you still attacking Vos?"

"Revenge." Megatron growled.

Thundercracker and Skywarp shared a worried look.

He didn't like the look of it. "What?" He demanded.

Thundercracker rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "We... don't know if Starscream ever realised you were this smart."

Megatron's glare darkened further.

"It'll be a pleasant surprise at least!" Skywarp quickly continued, smiling hopefully. "Who did you send?" He began counting the handful of Decepticons he knew off his fingers. "Not Soundwave. Not Strika-"

"Deadlock." Megatron murmured, checking his internal chrono. "With any luck, he should be arriving at the palace now."

 

* * *

 

The one thing Starscream could be thankful for about home, was that the palace staff were such prudes there was no chance they would let the lecherous Prime anywhere near his quarters for a late night visit. Cloud Tread had stationed guards at his doors again -as a punishment this time, for the silks probably. Starscream couldn't even be bothered to pretend it was an inconvenience. It wasn't like he had any desire to go wandering the halls of the palace knowing Autobots were prowling them.

He bundled up the Winglord's precious silks and screwed them up into a ball to throw into the corner of his room. The clips he tore off and left littering the floor. He stood in front of his mirror and glared at his reflection, thinking back to how Sentinel had compared him to the Winglord. He turned his head from side to side. Maybe their profiles were similar. The same pointed nose. And their optics held a similar shape.

He flipped the mirror around and stalked to the berth instead, wanting to cast the entire horrible evening from his mind.

Until tomorrow at least, when Sentinel would undoubtably want to 'get to know him better' before taking him back to Iacon

He shuddered. He could just imagine what that would be like.

His head hit the pillow and he closed his optics. The silky sheets felt cold and weightless across his wings. He had become too used to the scratchy sheets of Kolkular, of catching residual wafts of Megatron's scent on the sheets.

These smelt too clean, too new.

No Megatron. No trine.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, slipping a hand into his subspace to withdraw the one gift he had taken with him from Kaon. The dagger. He held it overhead and turned it over in his hands, watching the dim lights glint off the dark carved handle.

It would look _so_ good sticking out of Sentinel's ugly spark.

He cradled it to his chest, holding it tight in his hands, having nothing else to hold onto.

He was about to drift off into a restless recharge filled with thoughts of longing and violence, when he heard a quiet scuffling sound. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his lap. He glanced towards the door and focused on the light that glowed under the crack from the hallway. The shadows of his guards were still and silent.

The scuffling noise was coming from the window.

Dagger ready in his hand, Starscream rolled out of his berth and approached with caution. His window had been sealed shut many, many years again, as soon as Cloud Tread had gotten wind of him sneaking out on a night.

So he was safe from any assailants, at least.

At least that's what he had always thought, until whatever was at his window activated what looked like a high-powered laser cutter and began tracing a large circle in the window, cutting through reinforced glass and metal alike. Starscream leapt to the side, tucking himself behind the huge plum curtains, out of sight.

The glass didn't fall to thunk against the floor and alert the guards outside. A fast hand shot out and caught it. Starscream watched through the fabric of the curtains, spark beating like a drum, as a dexterous figure elegantly slipped through the hole in his window.

The intruder placed their pedes on the floor, movements silent, and looked around. When they faced the opposite direction, Starscream struck.

With lightening fast reflexes his intruder whipped around and caught his wrist before he could bring the dagger down. A quick twist, and Starscream hissed when his grip was manipulated and dagger slipped from his hand. He opened his mouth to scream, but another hand covered his mouth.

He bit down on his attacker's hand, and with a curse, the intruder pressed him up against the wall.

"Don't make me incapacitate you." A cold voice said.

Starscream struggled, trying to stamp down on their pedes with a thruster stuttering to ignite, glancing down to see where he was aiming and spotting- spotting a familiar pair of legs?

A familiar pair of _thighs_.

"Mmph?" He questioned.

His assailant leant back, allowing the dim lighting of Starscream's room to hit his face. Starscream recognised him. The Decepticon warrior from Kaon. One of Megatron's 'agents'.

Deadlock.

"Hmmghg?" He said, which was him trying to ask the mech what he was doing here.

"Are you going to come quietly?"

Starscream wriggled, trying to free himself from Deadlock's hand. "I'm- what are you- will you _let go_!"

Deadlock looked conflicted. "If you scream or try to run, I will shoot out your knees."

"Oh, _lovely_." Starscream muttered. "I take it Megatron sent you to kidnap me back? How _romantic_."

"Romance has nothing to do with this." Deadlock was taking his job very seriously, "You're in danger. Megatron has ordered an attack on the city and he would rather you not be caught up in the crossfire."

"I couldn't give a slag what Megatron would 'rather not happen'." Starscream sneered, removing Deadlock's fingers from his chest, one by one. "I didn't come all the way back here just to miss out on all the action."

Deadlock readjusted his grip and pressed him back against the wall again. "Do you have any idea what will happen to this city when he comes? What will happen to the privileged little seekers in it's palace?"

"Yes!" Starscream hissed, already envisioning a burnt out husk of a throne room and pilfered crown jewels. "Which is why I'm staying, and why Megatron _isn't_ going to attack my home."

"Kaon is your home now."

"Kaon is a dirty hovel." Starscream snarled. "I'll put up with living there if it's where Megatron needs me to be, but I won't call it my home. _This_ is my heritage. My people! And I won't let Megatron blow it to Pit in some manic, revenge-fuelled scheme."

Deadlock stared down at him unsympathetically. With one finger, he pointed between Starscream's optics, letting it hover there threateningly. "I could knock you out, if your dignity requires it."

"I'm not leaving this city." Starscream glared. "Go back to Kaon and tell that thoughtless maniac you take orders from that I had _wanted_ to escape, I would have."

"You choose to remain here with the enemy." Deadlock's gaze darkened. "Are you betraying him?"

Starscream scoffed in disgust. "I'm trying to _help_ him."

"I cannot return without you." Deadlock impressed, and despite his cold gaze, he seemed reluctant to take him by force. "He values you highly." Optics tracked up and down his frame, judgmentally. As if Starscream hadn't been judged enough for one might. "...For whatever reason."

Starscream slapped him off, having had enough. "I'm not a lost little pet."

"You're not a revolutionary either." Deadlock glowered. "Megatron has given me orders to retrieve you unharmed. If I allow you to remain here and play out whatever disastrous scheme you have concocted, you'll inevitably hurt yourself. Or worse, get yourself killed."

"Have a little faith." Starscream pushed past him and sat himself on the end of his berth, sensing a stubborn mech like Deadlock wasn't about to give up any time soon. "If you can't return to Kaon without me, stay."

Deadlock shifted. "Stay?"

"Here." Starscream opened his arms. "You're an unexpected edition, but I can certainly have use of you. When the time comes."

Deadlock frowned at his vagueness. "And how do you expect to explain a Decepticon assassin to your many, _many_ servants?"

Starscream pulled layers of berth coverings back to reveal the frame, and the space underneath it. "I would have thought a mech as clever as you would know how to hide."

Deadlock's frown softened with worry, but Starscream smirked. His allies were beginning to tally up.

Thank Primus for Megatron's predictability.

 


	19. Disappearance At The South Eastern Border

Sleeping in Megatron's private rooms (in his _berth_ no less) might have been, well, _weird_ a couple of days ago, but it was the only way Thundercracker and Skywarp could convince one another to get a wink of recharge.

Megatron himself didn't sleep, and only conceded to retreating to his rooms with them late in the night for brief few hours before they were due to mobilise to keep an increasingly agitated Soundwave happy. He sat up by his desk, frowning at the doorway, optics blank as he lost himself to thought, his intel reports glowing in his hands.

Thundercracker watched him for a while, optical shutters growing heavier with every slow ex-vent. He was only calm enough to recharge in the first place because any and all news would go to Megatron first. He would be second to know, and was in the best place he could be.

He'd been wrapped up in Skywarp's comforting hold for barely an hour before a sudden slam woke him. Skywarp was upright in a flash. High strung and anxious over what had happened with Starscream, he immediately threw himself atop his one remaining trine-mate, claws drawn, squashing Thundercracker to the berth.

" _Ow_ , Warp!"

But it wasn't an attack.

The only other mech in the room was still Megatron, who was now hunched over a flashing 'high priority' intelligence report. He was breathing harshly through his vents, his giant shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

Thundercracker peaked out from beneath Skywarp's chest.

"Megatron?" He asked quietly, fearing the worst.

It took Megatron a moment to respond as he fought to calm himself down. His every gear was tense and his optics dark with fury. The desk beneath his hands looked misshapen from his grip on it. "That Prince of yours is a piece of work." He spat, and crushed the datapad in one hand.

Thundercracker could hear his own spark pulse in his audials.

"Did your agent find him?" Skywarp blurted quickly, lifting himself off Thundercracker to rise onto his knees. "Is he alright? Is he okay-!?"

"If we don't take into consideration the obvious _leave of his senses_ , then yes, he is fine." Megatron snarled. "But when _I_ get hold of him..."

Oh Primus.

"He's not coming, is he?" Thundercracker's spark sank, fantasies of meeting Starscream on route to Vos, and proceeding with the inevitable sacking of the city secure in the knowledge that Starscream was safe, protected, far from the chaos, now evaporating.

Megatron swept a hand through the remaining files on his desk, sending them clattering to the floor. "Get up." He ordered them. "We're leaving."

"Are we ready to-?"

"Now!" He barked, and Skywarp immediately rolled out of the berth, dragging a struck Thundercracker with him. "Before that imbecile gets himself any deeper into this mess!"

Thundercracker hurried to follow orders, too worried for Starscream to fear Megatron's short temper. He should have known Starscream would never take the easy way out.

Looked like _they_ had to go to him.

And Megatron wasn't the only mech who wanted to give Starscream a piece of their mind...

 

* * *

 

"Megatron has been informed of your refusal to comply with his orders. He is displeased, to say the least." Deadlock told him, as if that was meant to _scare_ him.

"He's your leader. Not mine." Starscream sniffed, ignoring a pulse of worry. Of course Megatron would be angry. He had expected that. He would forgive him though, when this all came together.

 _If_ this all came together.

And it would help greatly if Deadlock did as he was _fragging well told!_

Surprisingly fussier than Starscream would have expected of a low-caste Decepticon -and from what he'd learnt in the short time knowing of him, a formerly homeless one at that- Deadlock outright refused to get under the berth. A ten minute staring contest that left Starscream's optics burning and Deadlock wincing later, and they realised, when it came to stubbornness at least, they were equally matched.

Eventually, Deadlock relaxed across Starscream's favourite chaise lounge, and Starscream climbed into his berth.

"If I wake up in Kaon-"

"It would take more skill than I have to _haul_ your recharging frame across city lines without your notice," Deadlock growled, optics two sharp red lines across the dark room. "No matter how heavily you might sleep."

Starscream pursed his lips. "When you say 'haul'-?"

"You're not light."

"How would you know?" Starscream sneered.

"Seekers never are." Deadlock lifted his chin arrogantly, and swung his legs and dirty, grease-smeared pedes up onot the elegant furniture like it wasn't a priceless royal antique. "It's your egos."

Starscream wasn't dignifying that with a response, but he did file Deadlock's less than polite attitude away for later -a little something to pass onto Megatron when they were reunited. Some loyal agent Deadlock was. He needed reminding who his superiors were. Superior _s_. _Plural_. As in, including _him_.

Starscream picked up one of the decorative, embroidered cushions -stiff and starchy, uncomfortable as can be for decoration rather than comfort- and threw it at Deadlock. Deadlock caught it in one hand with ease, arching a smart brow.

"Shut up and recharge then." Starscream snarled, dropping to the berth and dragging the covers over his head. "But if someone comes in and catches you lounging across my furniture like you own the place, don't come crying to me when they put you in front of a firing squad."

He heard the click and snap of a gun's safety flicking off. "I won't require recharge."

Fragging Decepticons, Starscream rolled his optics.

 

* * *

 

Starscream was rudely awoken at dawn the next cycle.

Having spent most of the night arguing with Deadlock, he hadn't caught up much on his recharge, and it took him a moment to recognise it was Cloud Tread that came barging through the doorway, his trine closely following. Starscream sat up and threw off the covers before Cloud Tread could whip them away himself.

His optics snapped to the chaise lounge. It was vacant.

He glanced at the curtains behind him, still and unmoving.

Perhaps the fool and seen the light and gotten under the berth as he'd requested.

"You're leaving this evening." Cloud Tread announced, inspecting his digits, hardly bothering to look at Starscream. "Sentinel Prime will be occupied with his own personal affairs this morning, but the Winglord has arranged for one last fuelling banquet to see you off."

Starscream wondered what Sentinel's 'personal affairs' were. The Prime had no shortage of intimate company in Iacon, but from what rumour told him it never seemed to stop him from seeking additional company. And from the evidence already gathered, Sentinel seemed to have taken a liking to seekers. He wouldn't come all this way just to collect one without 'sampling' the thousand other varieties.

"A banquet," Starscream sneered, wondering how he was going to work up any appetite as he moved off towards his private washroom. "Wonderful."

"In the mean time, you will be occupying the Prime's entourage in his absence." Cloud Tread flicked his fingers. "So go. Make yourself presentable."

Starscream slapped the door access panel. "What do you _think_ I'm doing?"

He turned to enter his opulent wash room, and nearly tripped over the threshold when he saw Deadlock's inconspicuous frame stood smack bang in middle of his shower, a gun in hand and a finger pressed to his lips.

Starscream promptly shut the wash room door again.

Cloud Tread was glaring at him. "Delay tactics won't work."

"I'm not delaying anything." Starscream pancaked himself against the door, as though that could prevent any of them from entering and finding the _foreign assassin_ he had hidden in his shower. "I'm ...going in now."

Cloud Tread folded his arms and tapped his pede. His trine began to make themselves comfortable around the room. It was obvious they weren't leaving to give him any privacy any time soon. Not when they were so close to turfing him off on Iacon.

Starscream ground his denta together and opened the door again, slipping in through the tiny gap and quickly slapping it shut on the other side before Cloud Treed could peer around him see the mech stood in his shower. He locked the door afterwards for good measure, even though Cloud Tread had the override codes. Starscream just had to hope he didn't give him an excuse to check up on him mid-shower.

" _Get out of there_!" Starscream hissed, reaching in and tugging on Deadlock.

Deadlock had a puzzled, contemplative look on his face. "You allow your servants to speak to you like that?"

"They're not my servants. I don't _have_ servants." Starscream switched on the shower and the crash of solvent thundering against the drain muffled the sound of them speaking. "They're my ... _jailers_. My life isn't the fancy fairytale you like to think it is."

"Forgive my lack of sympathy for your privileged lifestyle." Deadlock moved away from the shower and dropped cross-legged to the floor, propping his chin in his fist to watch Starscream step under the warming stream of solvent.

"Turn around." Starscream growled, twisting to shield himself from the Decepticon's gaze.

Deadlock didn't. "I can't let you out of my sight."

"You're going to have to. Didn't you hear? Banquet? Autobots? _Sentinel_? He's going to notice a Decepticon grunt looming over my shoulder when he tries to molest me, you realise."

"I won't allow the Prime to touch you."

"As much see I'd love to see you shoot up the entire banquet hall and kill all the guards and swoop me up and race me back to Megatron- it's _not_ going to happen, hot shot," Starscream rubbed solvent across his chest, letting the warm liquid run down his legs. "Stay here. Stay hidden."

"I do not need to stay here, to stay hidden." Deadlock said firmly.

Starscream flicked solvent with his wings, turning and throwing his wash cloth down with a slap. "How many times-! You can't just wander the halls of the palace! I don't care if you get yourself killed, I care if you tip them off to what I have planned!"

Deadlock leaned back. "I have my orders from Megatron. I made a sworn promise to him and I cannot allow harm to befall you."

"Relax." Starscream sighed, turning off the shower, making this quick so Cloud Tread didn't grow suspicious and come looking for him. "Prime only wants to frag me. He doesn't want to hurt me."

"Those two things are not mutually exclusive." Deadlock said, with the sort of sombre tone that implied he knew from experience.

 

* * *

 

Slipstream very rarely took stock of what members of the royal household said- even less so when the information was coming from his royal highness, Prince  _Starscream_.

He had never been the most consistently honest person, even at the best of times. It wasn't entirely his fault, she thought grumpily. It was in his programming. It was the way he'd been raised. She might have been equally as screwed up had she been placed on a pedestal of unattainable standards and raised by the maniacs hired by the self-serving council.

But something about last night's welcoming party stuck with her. Something about Starscream's quiet conviction over her dismissal of his claims. He seemed sure. He seemed unswayed. He didn't _care_ about the injustice of her not believing him.

He wasn't usually the most rational of people.

Once, years ago, when she'd only been but a lieutenant herself, hand picked by her superiors to attend a pompous gathering at the palace, she had witnessed Starscream set fire to a six million year tapestry, all because they'd cut him off from the enegex.

(She didn't blame them. A sober Starscream was enough of handful already. One high and overcharged didn't bear thinking about.)

And Starscream was a twit, but he wasn't stupid. What possible reason could he have for siding with an outsider in the first place? A mech that _abused_ him during his short stay no less.

Everyone in the palace was a liar. So it wasn't entirely impossible that Starscream might be the only one telling the truth for once. Just unlikely. 

"General Slipstream." An ensign appeared at her left shoulder, looking rather serious and urgent for first thing in the morning.

Slipstream cast aside thoughts of Starscream to concentrate on her real job; the operation of the airforce. The ensign saluted her, and she stuck out an impatient hand for the report he was holding.

"Barely dawn and you're already giving me reports." She grumbled.

"A morning patrol hasn't checked back in."

"Oh?" She switched on the datapad. Indeed, an entire trine hadn't made it to their last checkpoint. It was on the city-state's perimeter.

It was the South Eastern Border.

Starscream's face rose unbidden in her processor again, and his grating voice, warning her of invasions.

"-already sent out a reserve trine-" the ensign was saying.

"Then call them back." She snapped, subspacing the datapad. "Something doesn't feel right. I'll go myself."

The ensign blinked in surprise. He was rightly confused. It wasn't often a mech of her status would perform such a menial task. "Alone-?"

"I'll take the Rainmakers." She huffed, gaze darkening. "But I don't appreciate the implication that I can't take care of this myself."

The ensign nodded and quickly scurried off to find her backup. Slipstream glared out across the landing strip. If even some of Starscream had said was true, and this was the beginning of that, a trio of seekers, even with outlier abilities, were unlikely to be enough help against the combined might of Megatron's wrathful army.

But if _everything_ that Starscream had told her was true, she might not have need for backup in the first place.

 

* * *

 

The South Eastern Border was one of Vos's most secure, aided by it's position running along the shoreline of the Mithril Sea, which few, save fliers, could cross safely. For a patrol to go missing in that vast expanse of nothingness was suspicious indeed.

Slipstream saw the approaching shoreline and began her descent, the Rainmakers behind her following in formation. Using the stats of the missing trine's last known location, she landed on the shore directly below where their signals had disappeared from the map. She quickly boosted herself with a blast of her thrusters to stand atop a high bolder to survey her surroundings, shielding her optics from the glare of Cybertron's star reflecting against the eerily still sea.

Nothing. No sign of the patrol trine. Not sign of a crash. Not even a footprint in the black gritty shoreline.

She turned to address the Rainmakers. "Fan out, we need to cover at least-"

Acid Storm stared at her with bright frightened optics from within the headlock of a hulking Decepticon warrior, a gun pressed to his temple. Behind them, Ion Storm and Nova Storm had also fallen into the waiting Decepticons' trap.

Slipstream was surprised she hadn't heard such large clunky warriors jump out from behind the rocks. She was doubly surprised they had been fast enough to catch her seekers.

"You're an embarrassment to your training, succumbing to the stealth of _grounders_." She hissed to the Rainmakers first, disappointed, but then turned her focus on the largest Decepticon, still half-strangling Acid Storm.

She lifted her arm-mounted guns. "And what about you? I knew the Decepticons were tight on resources, but don't tell me you're expecting to conquer a city with just three soldiers?"

"We are more than three, little seeker." The Decepticon growled coldly. Her grip on Acid Storm's neck tightened. A wing flicked in pain. "Stand down, or be _brought_ down."

" _ **Little** seeker_?!" Slipstream's wings pointed upright at the insult. She charged her weapon, "I'll show you-!"

A giant black hand come out of nowhere and seized the barrel of Slipstream's mounted gun. It was yanked up, and her shot went wide, missing the arrogant Decepticon by a full metre and exploding against the rocks behind her.

Slipstream twisted to send her ignited thruster heel into the abdomen of her attacker, but her heel swung around and _clanged_ against thick reinforced silver armour, rather than breakable cockpit glass. The shock of the impact shot up her leg. She grunted, but by then both of her wrists were caught and ground together in one massive palm.

She was yanked up, pedes kicking in the air a foot off the shore, and brought optic-to-optic with Megatron himself.

"General," Megatron noted, glancing at the rank stripes on her wings. "Are seekers of your rank often sent on menial search and rescues?"

Slipstream gathered oral lubricant in her mouth and spat at him. She got him right under the optic and had the immense satisfaction of watching him flinch back. She could hear his engines rumble with a growing growl as he blinked optics back online to glare at her.

Behind her, Slipstream heard the Decepticon thug throw Acid Storm aside with a curse and start stamping towards them.

But Megatron held out his free hand, stopping her in her tracks. "It's quite alright, Strika." He purred, taking Slipstream in with a growing smirk. "She's a _General_ , remember? We'll need her functional for what's to come."

Slipstream bit down on her glossa.

This was all Starscream's fault. If she survived this, she'd be sure to punch him right in his smug royal face for having had the _audacity_ to actually tell the truth.

 

 


	20. Unlikely Partnerships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings for this chapter; groping, attempted sexual assault, and (unsurprisingly) a little bit of murder. Please consider these warnings carefully and reach out to me if you need further information.

Slapped into a pair of stasis-cuffs and then tossed over the bulky shoulder of Megatron's loyal wench, Strika, Slipstream was feeling more than just a tad put out over her current circumstances. A two million year long military career and not once had she fallen into enemy hands. Until this rag-tag bunch of Decepticons had jumped out from behind rocks and somehow taken her by surprise.

(How humiliating. If this ever got back to Starscream, she'd assassinate him herself.)

Megatron, against all sense and reason, appeared to have gone ahead of his sprawling army. It went against all of Slipstream's conceivable tactical know-how, but here he was, stood on the shoreline of the Mithril sea, with a handful of Decepticons, a very bad plan, and ... _two seekers?_

"You!" She bellowed, still upside-down over Strika's bulky shoulder. She would have thrashed in her captive's hold had the heavy duty stasis-cuffs not been interrupting her circuits and preventing her from moving, because she _recognised_ the purple one.

A dark head lifted, a clueless face frowned, and naive optics widened in recognition.

"Slipstream?" He cried, clearly recognising her as well. He made to rush towards her, but he had barely crossed the beach when a larger Decepticon stopped him, glaring at her behind a dark crimson visor. "Vosian General; Prisoner."

The purple seeker shrugged him off with a squirm, his fussy, immature nature enough to indicate to Slipstream that she didn't know him from the airforce.

"No, she's a friend!" He claimed, "Sort of. Not really." He pulled a conflicted face. "She's cool, I mean."

The visored Decepticon stared at him. "The quality of 'coolness' does not exempt her from being a prisoner."

Their conversation alerted Strika to her prisoner's antics, and much to Slipstream's irritation, she turned around to face her comrades, swinging Slipstream in the other direction.

"Hey!" She shouted.

It was at this point the _other_ seeker glanced in her direction, having been stood awkwardly off to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the practice of taking fellow seekers prisoner.

But Slipstream saw his face, and seeing the two oddly familiar seekers together finally sparked the recognition in Slipstream. "Thundercracker!" She would have snapped her fingers as the name suddenly came rushing back to her. "You're Starscream's snotty little trine!"

Strika bounced her roughly. Slipstream oof'd as she was jostled against the larger mech's thick armour.

"Do you _mind_!?" She winced, winded from the manhandling.   
  
"Be mindful of who you insult," Strika hissed an unsympathetic warning.

She must have some sort of a soft spot for Thundercracker and Skywarp, possibly even Starscream -Primus knew why. Must be a Decepticon thing. 

But unhindered by their Decepticon guards, Thundercracker and Skywarp were permitted to come right up to her. Strika roughly took Slipstream down from her shoulder, setting her back on her pedes. Her large strong chest brushed the backs of Slipstream's wings where she refused to move even a step away, overbearingly protective of her charges, and suspicious of her prisoner. 

Slipstream pulled a face, but ignored the Decepticon's nosy presence. "What are you doing here?" She demanded. "Don't tell me you're voluntary prisoners?"

"No," Skywarp smirked, folding his arms. "We're rescuing Starscream."

" _Rescuing_?" Slipstream snorted a laugh and arched a brow. "He didn't look like a seeker in need of a rescue to me. Haven't you heard? He's got himself a new mech and a new palace, all ready and waiting."

"You saw him?" Thundercracker's optics were imploring and pathetic with hope. "He looked okay? He'd not hurt?"

"Might have taken a few blows to the head with the way he was rambling, but he was fine when I left him." Slipstream looked between the two seekers, confused. She dropped her voice to a whisper, even if the Decepticons looming over them would hear anyway. "What are you doing with ... _him_?"

She tipped her helm to where Megatron was currently crouched in front of her terrified Rainmakers, grilling them for information. She herself wasn't being interrogated, likely because the warlord knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"We're helping him." Skywarp's smile remained.

Slipstream's jaw tensed. "Why?"

"To rescue Star-!"

"To pass him from one warring faction to another?" Slipstream cut across him. "Autobot. Decepticon. What difference does it make? Just because Megatron's honest enough to actually call himself a warlord?"

"No! Because-!" Skywarp became flushed with frustration. "Because _fragging_ \- Cloud Tread just- he _took_ Starscream-"

"I was under the impression Cloud Tread headed a rescue mission." Slipstream said stiffly, wondering all the while what the point of believing anyone was.

"He didn't rescue Starscream, he kidnapped him!"

"If that's true, then why hasn't Starscream escaped?" Slipstream narrowed her optics. "He hasn't had a problem slipping his guards since he was a sparkling."

"The frag if we know." Skywarp's nose scrunched up. "Megatron even sent someone to-"

"Enough." Soundwave suddenly appeared between them, placing a firm hand on both seeker's shoulders to steer them away. "She is not your alley. She is not Starscream's."

"But she's the head of the airforce." Skywarp whispered.

"An airforce that would have no qualms blasting us back across the sea should they learned of our presence here." Soundwave turned his darkening visor back to her. "She does not have Starscream's best interests at spark."

"That true." She conceded with a nod. "But I do have Vos's." He peered around the Decepticons to look at Megatron again. "Let me speak to him-"

"You have dishonoured Lord Megatron enough," Strika boomed right in her audial, her large chest vibrating with the volume of her vocaliser. Slipstream suppressed a shiver at the sensation and composed her expression into one of exasperation.

"You want to get your precious leader's little trophy seeker back, or not?"

Strika's grumpy face grew decidedly grumpier.

 

* * *

 

Starscream's day dragged on.

He found it ironic, because he by no means _wanted_ the end of the cycle to come. He wouldn't be retreating to his perfect palace bedroom to recuperate from the social labour of being 'The Perfect Prince'. He'd be getting hauled off to Iacon, and Primus only knew where and how he'd be expected to spend the night in Sentinel's greasy paws.

If the torture of having to 'entertain' Sentinel's entourage all day was even half as excruciating as what he had to expect from life in Iacon, he wasn't sure his sanity would survive.

He couldn't concentrate much on their conversation, as they were all so keen to get their point across they talked over the top of one another in a jumbled mess -Hot that any of them would have been particularly interested in what _he_ had to say anyway. But he was so busy worrying about the Decepticon _assassin_ he had hidden away in his washroom he wasn't fast enough to rebuke any the flight-frame prejudices they threw his way every other sentence.

"Finally!" He heard one of them exclaim -he couldn't tell which, he was _surrounded_. "A seeker that can take a joke."

Great. Now they thought their racism was funny too.

Since they were beyond help, and ignoring him anyway, Starscream tuned out for the majority of the morning, too busy thinking about Deadlock and his stubborn refusal to vocalise his acknowledgement of Starscream's orders.

The Decepticon hadn't made any effort to reassure him that he would stay put, that he wouldn't show his face lest called upon, and Starscream _needed_ him to stay in his room, _needed_ to know exactly where he was.

Because he had a plan -as he reminded the assassin several times. A plan that was going to work. So long as Deadlock wasn't spotted wandering the halls of the fragging palace like some hapless tourist.

The afternoon rolled on with no end in sight, and the palace tour he was taking the entourage on (accompanied by the ever watchful Cloud Tread and a small unit of palace guards) could have taken days.

But they had only just entered the grand library when time crept up on Starscream with startling speed, and the slimy Chancellor rounded the corner.

Sentinel Prime in tow.

Starscream attempted to hang back behind the main body of Sentinel's sycophantic entourage, but was prodded forward with a sharp jab in the centre of his back. _Thank you_ Cloud Tread.

Sentinel and his entourage patted one another on the back and talked for a while about their experiences in Vos so far. Starscream tried as hard as he could to tune out the Prime's voice when he made a not-so-subtle comment about how _thorough_ the seekers were as hosts. How 'nothing was too much trouble' for them.

The Prime's closest confident, the mech who had taken charge of the entourage in their leader's absence -and the one Starscream now realised had made the stupid joke- offered Starscream a wink when he said to Sentinel, "You know what they say about seekers; all flash and no class."

Even _Cloud Tread_ sighed at that one. 

Starscream surveyed the cabal of laughing Iaconian's. Primus, Deadlock had better not ruin this for him. He couldn't imagine a life among these troglodytes.

 

* * *

 

Megatron had the sort of regal sprawl that made everything he sat on seem like it should be a throne. Currently, he was sat on a rock. To Slipstream's trained eye it looked uncomfortable, but Megatron gave no indication that it was.

"You're going to blow up my home." She came right out and said it.

Having convinced her captives to deactivate the immobilising effects of the stasis-cuffs so he could walk to Megatron herself, Slipstream was also able to duck Strika's predictable smack around the head for the insolent remark. She smirked at the larger Decepticon. "Too slow."

Strika took a step forward.

Megatron lifted a hand, waving her down. "Enough." He growled, his harsh gaze locked on Slipstream. "I'm assuming you wanted more than to simply provoke me?"

"Just to offer some advice. You know you don't need to burn my entire city to ash just to get your little toy back."

"My conjunx." Megatron corrected.

Slipstream smirked. "He's not yours anymore. Haven't you heard?"

"He is mine." Megatron's voice deepened with possessiveness. "And no bejewelled Vosian bureaucrat will change that."

"It was by royal decree-"

"And my understanding is that pompous layabout posing as your Winglord is _not_ royal."

Slipstream wasn't about to get into an argument about royal titles and succession with Megatron. Mostly because she didn't care, but also because they were on something of a time crunch. She shrugged. "Let's just say - it's complicated."

"I won't be sparing your city." Megatron leant back. "I won't be sparing your palace. And I won't be sparing your Winglord. But please, go ahead," he waved a passive arm. "Make your plea for mercy if it means that much to you."

Slipstream let herself smile nice and patronisingly. "Look. I don't know how well you know Starscream, but as the airforce general, I've had to suffer his company for a good several hundred years now. And I do know him. I know what he cares about. And he _cares_ about Vos."

Megatron's lip curled.

"Don't get me wrong." She shifted her footing. "Not the seekers _inside_ Vos. He doesn't care about those lowly peasants. But the city itself. It's art. It's expensive real-estate. The palace, of course, and the throne. And he's been drooling over those Crown Jewels since before he could fly."

She looked Megatron up and down. "I'm sure he wouldn't give a scraplets-aft who you murdered in the streets. I'm sure he'd even _thank you_ for lowering the number incalculable enemies he has. But if there's so much as a scorch mark on that throne, or a dent in one of those crowns he was set to inherit - trust me, it won't be the work of any _bureaucrat_ that annuls your union for real."

Megatron leant back against his rock, stroking his chin. Dark optics flicked to the side, where Starscream's equally spoilt trine were watching with interest. At Megatron's glance, they nodded their agreement.

"It's not that he's materialistic," Thundercracker tried to defend.

"No. He is." Slipstream interrupted. "I'm willing to bet that's why he won't play along with your rescue attempt. After all, how is he supposed to rule Vos if you've gone and destroyed it?"

Megatron lowered the hand he had been stroking over his chin and leant forwards, peering at her with newfound interest. "Perhaps we can be of assistance to one another, after all."

Slipstream couldn't help but wink at Strika teasingly when the Decepticon was directed to remove her cuffs.

 

* * *

 

The gaudy interior decor of the palace would be the first thing to go -Starscream thought to himself as he was forced into take his allocated seat beside Sentinel Prime at the opulent, lengthy banquet table. It was a small gathering -but due to the Winglord's limited understanding of the meaning 'small', it meant they'd be entertaining not only Prime's entire entourage, but half the cruel, self-serving Vosian council as well. They sat about the table, a stony-faced contrast to the talkative Autobots threaded between them.

Luckily for Starscream, Cloud Tread's importance -or lack thereof- meant he was sat at the furthest end of the table, nowhere near Starscream, and therefore unable to breathe down his neck about table manners and poise even one last time.

Unfortunately, the Winglord's importance meant he _was_ seated on Starscream's other side. Ordinarily Starscream wouldn't have minded. Stellaforce was far too self involved to pay much attention to Starscream's manners, good or bad, but today, tense and stressed over what was to come, the Winglord's charismatic show for the Iaconians was getting on Starscream's fraying nerves.

He had the fools eating out of the palm of his hand, hanging on his every word. They loved him -they didn't _know_ him, but he was handsome and funny and smiled at the hapless Autobots like they _mattered_ and it seemed enough to win them all over.

What Starscream wouldn't give to be that effortlessly manipulative. No wonder the council had given him the title of Winglord.

And the entourage of Autobot generals and advisors weren't the only mecha won over by Stellaforce's charms. With the way Sentinel was smirking at the older seeker Starscream wouldn't be surprised to feel an arm sneaking around the back of his seat to mare a move on the Winglord's wings.

 _Better him than me,_ he thought sardonically, sitting stiff and uncomfortable in his hard backed, golden seat.

They were sat under a huge glistening chandelier. A millennia old - commissioned in the silver age by Starscream's great great grandsire. Starscream could see his own colours reflected back at him a thousandfold in the crystals. And his own miserable optics.

"You look less enthusiastic than I would have expected," Sentinel spoke, and to Starscream's horror, the Prime was no longer mesmerised by the Winglord's conversation and was speaking to _him_.

A large blue hand wrapped around the fancy stacked-cubic glass of energon and pushed it across the polished table until it was in front of Starscream.

"Aren't you looking forward to our new life together?" Sentinel pressed. He sounded amused, but he wasn't. Starscream could see it in his harsh blue optics.

"Oh, _yes_." Starscream picked up the glass to hide his sneer, but his voice was laced with sarcasm no cutlery could hide. "Just you, me ...and your fifty other concubines."

"Consorts." The Winglord intercepted quickly to correct him with a sharp smile, rolling his optics at Sentinel playfully, as if Starscream was simply a scatterbrain who had used the wrong word. "And of course he's looking forward to it. Aren't you?"

"Of course." Starscream swirled his cube, refusing to meet the Prime's gaze. "Can't wait."

He caught a glimpse of the irritation that crossed the Winglord's face, but it was gone before Sentinel could notice it and once again replaced with that charming, flirtatious smile. The icy coolness in the Prime's gaze seemed to warm at that look, and Starscream wondered how much Sentinel actually wanted to take him back to Vos, and how much he had been persuaded into it by the Winglord.

Starscream side-eyed Stellaforce suspiciously, wondering what game he was playing.

He drank small, measured sips of his energon as the banquet went on, wanting to delay the inevitable for a long as he could. He kept an optic on his fuel gauge -knowing he needed a sober processor- and another on the feasting Autobots, on their second, their third, their forth cubes. He hid a smirk. Their decadence would be their undoing in more ways than one.

And the longer they drank into the night, the better. Soundwave had told him Decepticons worked best under the cover of darkness, and he knew the airforce struggled in poor visibility.

But Starscream's carefully calculated timing went out the window when Sentinel, after laughing loudly and clapping at one of his advisor's jokes like a big dumb cyber-seal, brought his hands back down. One falling past the edge of the table ...to land firmly on Starscream's knee.

Starscream coughed into his cube.

Sentinel didn't move, the majority of his attention still on his comrade, nodding and smiling along, his hand still firmly planted on Starscream's knee, and moving up his armour, thumb stroking back and forth as it traversed Starscream's thigh.

Still struggling to breathe around the mouthful of energon he'd _inhaled_ , Starscream had to manually abort the instinct to smack him off. He cleared his vocaliser, louder than necessary, hoping to attract Sentinel's attention and subtly remind the Prime that he wasn't his yet, but the only attention he drew was that of the nearby council members. And the Winglord, of course. Who looked nothing short of furious.

Down the table, Starscream could see Cloud Tread burying his head in his hands.

Sentinel's hand was halfway to his groin now, his thick blunt fingers curling around and brushing the inner-seam of Starscream's thigh armour. He grabbed Sentinel's hand to still it, but the Prime squeezed his handful with relish.

Starscream's frame tensed, his tank rolled, and as hard as he tried to focus on not making a scene, Sentinel's casual molestation could not be tolerated.

He stood.

The Winglord caught his wrist, smile fixed and dangerous.

"Sit-"

" _Excuse_ me." Starscream yanked his hand free and turned to offer the frowning Prime a little bow. The entire table was staring at him with suspicious or curious looks, depending on how well they knew him. "I have ...forgotten something in my rooms."

Sentinel's frown deepened, but he didn't try to stop Starscream from leaving. The guards at the entrance moved in front of the doors as if to intercept him, but stood down at last minute, letting him pass through and back into the deserted corridor undisturbed.

Starscream released why as soon as he fled around the first corner, still shaking with the phantom sensation of a firm, greedy hand on his leg -Sentinel had sent one of his own comrades after him.

Starscream pretended not to have seen he was being followed, and turned another swift corner in order to lose the mech. Megatron seemed to be taking longer to get here than he had expected, but he could wait no longer. He needed to get back to his quarters, and to Deadlock, now.

He ducked behind a large pillar, listening to approaching then fading footsteps, then breathed a sigh of relief.

He stepped out of his hiding place.

"Didn't get far after all, did you," A smug Iaconian voice spoke.

Starscream near jumped out of his armour when Sentinel's little minion appeared, leaning against the pillar opposite, arms crossed and smile asymmetrical. It was the mech who thought he was a comedian. The one with all the seeker 'jokes'. 

Starscream sneered, "You Iaconians make a habit of stalking people in their own homes?"

"Only when I'm ordered to." The smug mech pushed off the pillar and began to close the distance between them. Starscream went to step back, but a hand shot out and caught his wrist, tugging him forward. Unused to being manhandled by mech's he didn't know, Starscream pushed the heels of his hands against the Autobot's chest to shove him off, but the mech was larger than him, stronger.

And he didn't have the same soft touch or honour code as the palace guards who were duty bound not to hurt him.

Starscream's tank turned unpleasantly. He stopped pushing and let himself guided backwards. He flashed a diffusing smile. "Fine. You win. I'll return to your Prime without a fuss-"

"Don't worry about that stuffy banquet." The mech's grip relaxed, but his 'charming' smile was ...slimy. "We don't need to go back just yet."

"They'll be wondering where I am." Starscream's drumming spark-pulse could be felt in his throat now. He had the dagger in his subspace, but he'd rather not have to use it yet. He could slice this creep's hands clean off, but then they'd know he had a weapon. And that he was prepared to use it.

"They won't."

Starscream tried to twist his wrist free, but was yanked forward again, bumping into the Autobot's chest. There was no playing this off now. He wasn't Stellaforce. He couldn't manipulate stupid Autobots with smiles and winks.

He scowled, his arm uncomfortably trapped between their chests. "Let _go_ of me," He warned.

"It's fine." The mech murmured, optics hooded and voice low. "The Prime and I go way back-"

"That's _nice_ -" Starscream twisted again, to no avail.

The Autobot held fast. "We share everything-"

"You won't be sharing me."

"There's no reason why not." The Autobot had a frown of his own now, clearly annoyed that Starscream wasn't just going to act like some plaything they could pass around. "Why do you think he has so many consorts? He's all about sharing, is Sentinel. It's the Autobot way."

Starscream had never heard that spiel before, but by now he'd been boxed against the pillar he'd taken previously refuge behind. He was trapped.

"I won't ask you again," He hissed through his teeth. "Take your hands off of me, before you lose them for good."

He slipped his free hand into his subspace, wrapping his fingers around the cool handle.

A step, and Starscream's back and wings were flush to the hard pillar. The Autobot leaned in and over him, his energon-rich breath wafting across Starscream's lips. Starscream turned his head with a scoff of disgust.

"Come on, just one for the road."

Lip's brushed Starscream's cheek and that was the limit of his patience. He drew the dagger and lashed out.

The but dagger never had the satisfaction of slicing through armour. The Autobot was a trained warrior and at the first glimpse of it's glowing blade, a well-placed smack had it sailing out of Starscream's hand and skating across the polished floor a second later. Starscream watched it spin far out of reach.

The Autobot glared at him. His hand suddenly became unbearably tight on Starscream's wrist.

"You-!"

Starscream gasped in pain, but the grip went slack a second later when a sharp _pew_ echoed through the open hall and the mech jolted, his optics sparking out.

Still pressed against the pillar, Starscream stared in surprise when his attacker's frame began to _tip_. It collapsed to the floor in a heap of glossy white and red armour. Energon started to puddle and spread from an unseen injury in the back of his helm. The air tasted his spent power cells. 

Starscream looked up, and there stood Deadlock, gun drawn and smoking from the heat of a blaster bolt. He holstered it and glared down at Starscream's now dead attacker with his hands on his hips.

Starscream looked between him and the mess in disbelief.

"I _told you to **stay in the room**_!"

 

 


	21. The Missing Senator

"You _killed_ him," Starscream was still staring at the growing energon puddle, struck with disbelief. "You _killed him_."

"I believe we've established that he's dead," Deadlock growled, folding his arms petulantly. "Who was he?"

"Someone _important_ ," Starscream snarled. "More important than you. Someone they're going to _notice is missing_."

"What would you have rather me do?" Deadlock's optics narrowed. His canines were sharp when he bared them. "Stand by and watch?"

"You didn't have to kill him!" Starscream grabbed at his own helm, stress levels rising. "You couldn't have incapacitated him? Knocked him over the head? You had to blow his fragging processor out all over the hallway?!"

"What point is there in delaying the inevitable?" Deadlock frowned, striding past Starscream and the offlined frame he'd just left sprawled on the shiny floor. "I could have put him into stasis, but that would have meant tracking him down again later to finish the job. A waste of time if you ask me."

Starscream watched him bend at the waist and retrieve his dagger. He held it up, checking it's structural integrity, before deactivated the laser blade and handing it back. "You'll need this."

Starscream snatched it out of his hand, holding it tight to stop his fingers shaking. "What are we going to do?"

"You're the self professed genius with the plan." Deadlock shrugged. "You tell me."

"But this wasn't _part of the plan_ , you bimbo!" Starscream near cried. "You can't start killing people until Megatron-"

"Why do we need to wait for Megatron?" Deadlock cocked one of his generous hips. "These Iaconian's are as stupid as they are hedonistic. We could lure them out one by one."

"You mean _I_ could lure them," Starscream huffed, folding his arms about himself, feeling unclean at just the thought. "You're not using me as bait. Besides, I don't want Megatron to miss all the fun."

"You don't look like you're having fun." Deadlock glanced at the dead Iaconian.

Starscream tutted, "I'll start having fun when you start listening to me."

Deadlock huffed an unamused laugh.

"What?"

"It's _cute_ ," Deadlock's head tilted with a little smirk. "How much you want to impress him." He sounded like someone speaking from experience.

"I don't need to impress _him_ ," Starscream spat. "I'm not one of his adoring little fans, like you. _He's_ the one that should be impressing _me_. Now get rid of that body."

"And where will you be going?"

"Back to the banquet. I'm going to see if I can reason with the Winglord, one last time."

"Why bother."

"I wouldn't expect a homeless mercenary like you to understand," Starscream scoffed, not wanting to ask himself the same very valid question.

Why bother? As much as he hated Stellaforce, he feared they were alike too. And he had turned enemies into allies before. Stellaforce was a natural manipulator and a skilled leader. Out from under the thumb of the council, he could be useful. He could he worth having around if he complied. Slipstream may hold the reigns of the airforce, but Stellaforce held the sparks of Vos's seekers.

"I would not recommend returning to the banquet hall. Alone." Deadlock looked up and down the hallway. "The Autobots will want to be leaving soon. They'll be asking where their friend disappeared to."

Starscream looked down on the mech at their pedes, missing half his head.

"Just ...hide the body."

Starscream-"

"Do as I say!" Starscream hissed, whipping around with flourish to stride off in a huff. Before he could get more than two steps, a hand shot out and grabbed a wing.

He hissed. Too high strung for unwelcome touch so soon after his assault, and turned to slap Deadlock across his undeservingly handsome face, only for the assassin to catch his wrist and draw a spare polishing cloth from his subspace. He used it to wipe down Starscream's chest and cockpit, clearing away a splatter of energon he hadn't noticed hit him.

"No reason to advertise what was keeping you," Deadlock released him.

Starscream tutted and cast him an exasperated look, "Stay hidden."

"I'll meet you in the banquet hall."

"That's not what I-"

Deadlock lifted one of the offlined Autobot's legs in one hand, and unholstered his gun with the other. Starscream heard the safety click off. "We've waited long enough."

Starscream seethed, wings shaking with suppressed frustration and stress. "Just because you have the guns doesn't mean you're in charge."

Deadlock cocked an eye-ridge. "Are you sure about that?"

Great.

 

* * *

 

The glow from the city could be seen for miles. Megatron glared at the sickly orange colour the light pollution left in the dark sky, his fists clenched at his sides.

The Vosian general, Slipstream, was stood at his side. She wasn't quite as short as Starscream, and her smugness was therefore spread across a greater surface area, but she seemed to hold the same arrogant stance. Her chin was up, unblemished face tilted towards him expectantly as she waited for his verdict.

The cocky curl to her mouth indicated she knew what it was going to be already.

He exhaled heavily in defeat.

"As _brilliant_ as this idea of yours is," he growled. "Isn't taking the city from the _inside_ impossible when we are stood thirty miles _outside_ it? And you've a great deal of pride for the high level of security stationed around the palace. The royal guard alone-

"I can't help you there. The royal guard answer to Starscream, not me." Slipstream folded her arms.

"Starscream is not the highest ranking member of the royal household," Megatron growled. "That would be your 'Winglord'. Who is to say _which_ over-polished seeker they choose to obey?"

"I suppose we'll have to wait and find out when we're in there," Slipstream shrugged. "But don't forget to factor yourself into that equation. You, with all this armour and bad temper, looming behind their Prince with that big overcompensating cannon of yours, might hold some sway in their decision."

Megatron scoffed, "The loyalty of seekers."

"We're not fickle," Slipstream said unashamedly. "Just ...practical. You Decepticons aren't so different. Why are _you_ in charge? You weren't even sparked to lead, but your mechs would follow you to the pits and back. At least Starscream has a birthright."

Megatron didn't know what, exactly, seekers looked for in their leaders, but he wasn't entirely sure Starscream was it. He was a clever, slippery little monster, but did that amount to someone deserving of command? Perhaps, with experience...

"How do we get into a palace," He grunted, changing the subject before he ended up slandering his own mate. "I imagine this is the sort of city built with bronze-age secret entrances and hidden tunnels so the higher-castes could carry out their illicit business undisturbed and unnoticed by the masses?"

Slipstream snorted, and his head snapped towards her to glare.

"Don't be ridiculous," She laughed, rolling her optics. "Skywarp's going to get us in."

" _Skywarp?_!" Megatron cried, turning around to view the seeker in question, currently hanging off Strika's arm, his optics bright and wings fluttering for her attention. Strika was too busy glaring at the back of Slipstream's head to notice her admirer.

"Skywarp," he said again, fighting against his sinking feeling. "Really."

"Of course," Slipstream shrugged. "Didn't you know? He's special."

 

* * *

 

The palace guards were motionless pillars stationed along the corridors, but Starscream felt their watchful optics follow him as he made him way back to the banquet hall, suspiciously alone. He had to slow his pace, because hurrying and looking panicked was hardly princely behaviour, nor was it particularly subtle.

He was about to step within range of the automatic door sensors when one of the guards outside the banquet hall stopped him.

Starscream's spark jumped into his throat when she held her shock-staff at an angle, blocking his path.

"Captain," he said, taking note of the rank stripes on her wings.

"Is Senator Raptus not rejoining us," She asked, staring him down.

Raptus? That was the now dead Iaconian's designation? He shouldn't have been surprised to learn he a senator. 'Elected' officials were almost always the worst.

"He had business elsewhere." Starscream stuck his nose in the air. "I'm sure he won't be long."

The captain's gaze tracked up and down his frame slowly, lingering on Starscream's wrist. Registering the residual ache of damage and glancing down to the see the dents Raptus's fingers had left in his armour, Starscream tucked his arm behind his back. And smiled.

Understanding crossed the captain's face. She stepped aside, lifting her staff away, and Starscream rejoined the banquet, unquestioned.

The hall was full of activity, and table littered with empty cubes. The decorum of the early evening was now gone as the Iaconians had dragged their chairs around to sit in groups. Sentinel himself was at the head of the long table, and had somehow coaxed the Winglord into sitting on the arm of his chair. One of his hands sat on Stellaforce's thigh, much like it had his own. The Winglord was smiling, his wings fanned wide to draw the enamoured Prime's optic.

It was working. Sentinel's attention was rapt.

Seeing as they were occupied, Starscream turned to the two guards on the inside of the hall to dismiss them. He didn't trust Deadlock not to shoot without discretion, and these guards were part of a unit loyal to him. They needn't be involved.

"Your captain wishes to see you."

They dipped their heads and filed out through the doors without question. Unfortunately, not everyone was so obedient.

"What are you doing?" Cloud Tread's voice demanded.

Starscream's tensed up out of sheer instinct.

"Nothing," he turned and smiled the same smile he'd been smiling all night. The slightly manic one that was staring to hurt his face.

Cloud Tread looked him up and down, suspicions high. "I suppose it's about time for you to make your last ditch escape attempts. You'll be leaving soon, won't you?"

Starscream looked past Cloud Tread, to where Sentinel was far too busy drooling over the Winglord to think about gathering his entourage and setting off home.

"I doubt that," he sighed airily. "I don't think Sentinel will be willing to leave until after he's coaxed your Winglord into some dark corner with him."

Cloud Tread's face darkened. "Where's the senator you left with?"

"The senator?" Starscream played innocent. "Please Cloud Tread, all these Autobots look the same to me. I'm surrounded."

Cloud Tread looked even more suspicious. He grabbed Starscream's wrist -unfortunately the same one Raptus had dented. Seeing the marks, Cloud Tread's mouth curled into an unhappy frown.

"What a surprise," he drawled. "Just what is it about you that makes everyone want to hurt you, Starscream?"

Starsceam curled his fingers into a fist as Cloud Tread steered him towards the door. "Where are you dragging me off to now?"

"To get to the bottom of why you've been sneaking around," Cloud Tread growled. Starscream looked over his shoulder at the banquet hall full of the mechs, to the Winglord flirtatiously ghosting fingers down Sentinel Prime's insignia, playing him as easily as he played the entire city.

Cloud Tread tugged and he almost tripped.

"I wasn't sneaking around," he protested, getting shunted out into the corridor. The Captain and her guard unit were stood outside, just within audial range. The four of them watched in silence when Cloud Tread twisted his arm to stop Starscream struggling.

"Where is the senator?" Cloud Tread demanded at them. "The sooner we round up these Autobots the sooner we can rid ourselves of them."

The Captain's optics moved between Cloud Tread and Starscream slowly. "...He was last seen seeking out the high-grades stores," she lied with shocking ease. "Without doubt, you'll find him half-drowned in a vat of triple distilled engex."

Cloud Tread side eyed Starscream.

"Can I _go now,_ " Starscream whined in his most annoying voice. "I'm supposed to be endearing myself to my new Prime, remember. You don't want him losing interest and sending me back now, do you?"

Cloud Tread glared.

"Or maybe you do?" Starscream raised his brows. "What else have you got to do around here if you're not bullying me anyway? Do you even _have_ a job when I'm gone?"

"The sooner you are someone else's problem, the sooner I can move into a position more suited to my station," Cloud Tread growled.

Starscream couldn't help but laugh. "You think you're getting promoted after all this?! After the trouble I've caused on your watch?"

Cloud Tread's hand tightened on his already damaged wrist. Starscream gasped, louder than was strictly necessary. The guards shifted.

Remembering they weren't as alone as he would have liked, Cloud Tread released him, exhaling harshly.

"Return to the banquet," he ordered him. "I will look for the senator. And you'd better hope I find him."

 _You might find **most** of him_, Starscream thought nastily, sure that Deadlock, as experienced a killer as he was, would have gotten rid of all traces of the body by now.

He swept back into the banquet hall, and now unhindered by a nosy Cloud Tread, strode right up to the Prime and the Winglord, and cleared his vocaliser. Loudly.

Sentinel glanced up, his smile markedly less wide when he turned it away from Stellaforce. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering where you'd disappeared off to."

"Were you now," Starscream intoned emotionlessly.

"Where is Senator Raptus?" Sentinel lifted his head, looking for him. Starscream wondered how much of what Raptus had said about Sentinel 'sharing' his consorts was true, and struggled to stow his temper.

"I'm sure he'll be along shortly," he said through his denta. "In the mean time, might we have a moment alone?"

The Winglord moved to slide off the arm of the chair, but Sentinel caught him about the waist, looking between the two seekers like he was weighing up his chances of getting to keep both. He began to stand. "I suppose-"

"Not _you_ ," Starscream snapped at the Prime, turning dark optics on the Winglord. "A moment, your _majesty_?"

Stellaforce's effortlessly smug face darkened. He gracefully turned himself out of Sentinel's grasp and clasped his hands behind his back. "This won't take long," he smiled at Sentinel, who was looking between them with a frown.

"Won't it," Starscream hissed.

"It had better not," the Winglord snapped back, and twisted to stalk towards one of the doors that led to an antechamber - the sort traditionally used by past Winglord's for more _private_ entertainment; from buy mechs to shareware, to the palace concubines who had once been a standard part of the royal household.

The door swept shut behind them and enclosed them in a darkened circular room, with mood lighting and plush couches littered with exotic fur throws and pillows and sheer curtains to separate the room into 'private' sections. Starscream tried not to touch anything. Primus only knew what sort of meetings some of the council mech's still hosted in rooms such as these.

The Winglord arrogantly dropped himself to one of the sofas, sprawling lazily, "Well?"

Starscream came right out and said. "The Autobot Senator is dead."

Stellaforce paused in studying his claws. He dropped his hand and met Starscream's gaze. It was less of a reaction than Starscream had been hoping for.

"Why?"

Starscream swallowed. "He tried to hurt me."

"Perhaps you should have let him," the Winglord's scoffed, exasperated. "It may come as a surprise to you, but the Prime isn't so enamoured with you that he'd let the murder of one of his closest advisors go unpunished."

Starscream rolled his optics. "He's not enamoured with _me_ at all."

"He wants to frag you. Which is enough," the Winglord sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine." He flicked a wrist. "I'll deal with it. It'll be easy enough to cover up."

"You can't cover this up," Starscream hissed. "The entire banquet hall saw him follow me. When Sentinel learns of this-"

"He won't," the Winglord smirked. "We can pin it on one of the guards. Say they misunderstood the situation."

Starscream felt his energon boil in his lines, "The guards are _loyal_ to us."

"Then they'll have no problem dying for you." The Winglord stood abruptly, and walked forwards until he was invading Starscream's personal space, his nose a hairbreadth from Starscream's.

He could smell his expensive polish. His breath. Unlike the rest of the banquet guests, he hadn't been drinking high-grade. He was very sober. And very observant. 

"You think I don't know what you're trying to do?" He cooed nastily. "Make a scene? Kill a few politicians? Nuke any chance of an alliance? Starscream. Sweetspark. I don't _care_ how many advisors you kill. You're _going_ to Iacon."

"You might not care, but the Prime will," Starscream refused to let Stellaforce's indifference get to him. "They execute murderers and traitors in Iacon. And I can't make that heir you're so obsessed with if I'm dead."

The Winglord rolled his optics.

"You're naive," he drawled. "And that's not your fault. Iacon have a modern, creative culture, but they're true traditionalists. They don't publicly execute their enemies. They empurata them. And trust me," the Winglord cupped the side of Starscream's face. "Sentinel doesn't need your pretty little face to get you sparked."

He patted Starscream's cheek.

"So if I were you, I'd keep this between the two of us." The Winglord swept away and moved towards the banquet door. "And pick a _loyal_ guard to take the fall. It's a shame your trine aren't here to do it instead. It'd make for a much more convincing story."

The door rolled open and Stellaforce slipped back into the banquet. Inside, the Autobots were beginning to stand and shake hands with the Vosian council, making their formal goodbyes.

Stellaforce went to the Prime, and stretched onto the tips of his toe-pedes to kiss either side of his face. Starscream felt hollow watching him, realising his carefully constructed plans weren't going to come together in the end after all.

Slipstream hadn't believed him. Stellaforce was the self obsessed psychopath he'd always feared he was. And Megatron wasn't here.

He was alone.

Spark pulsing, he pulled his dagger from his subspace once again. His plan may have gone to scrap, but he wasn't going to whatever fate awaited him quietly. He could cause at least one last scene before they dragged him off; slash a few tires, maybe sever someone's main fuel line.

He took a step, dagger poised, and hand darted out from behind one of the privacy curtains and stopped him.

Deadlock's optics meet his through the sheer fabric he was hidden behind. With a spike of embarrassment, Starscream realised he'd spied on the entire conversation between himself and the Winglord. He looked away without a word, jaw tight. "Don't," he hissed. 

"Starscream," Deadlock said quietly. The comm on his arm was lit up with a message. "He's here."

Starscream snapped his head up, spark drumming as it began to fill with relief. "He-"

"Megatron's here," Deadlock confirmed, showing Starscream the comm.

Starscream checked he wasn't being watched, and slipped behind the curtain, taking Deadlock's wrist to read the message for himself.

 _Brace for impact_.

He snorted quietly. "What the Pit does he mean, 'brace for-'?"

He was interrupted by a huge, not-so-distant explosion. The floors, the walls, and the opulent chandeliers shook. Crystals clinked together and rained down from the ceiling, smashing against the polished floor. Alarms blared in the distance as the banquet hall filled with gasps and curses as frightened politicians and drunk warriors alike stumbled back to their feet.

The explosion had come from below, Starscream noted. With any luck, it had been the flight hanger. Which meant Slipstream's forces wouldn't be able to enter en masse.

Starscream shuttered his optics in relief. He tightened his hold on his weapon as the remaining lights began to blink on and off.

"Kill the council members," he ordered, lifting the curtain. "Leave the Prime for Megatron."

Deadlock nodded, "The guards?"

"Some of them are  _my_ guards," Starscream frowned. "Incapacitate. Don't kill."

"And where will you be going?"

"Down to the high grade stores," He smiled, twirling his dagger. "With any luck, Cloud Tread is still looking for that 'missing' senator."

 


	22. Ladies First

The puff of purple clouds from the Skywarp's warp drive dissipated and the opulent palace walls came into view, a stark contrast the motley crew of dark, bulky Decepticon now stood against them. It was probably the first time a mech of low-chaste coding had ever even stepped foot in the palace's golden halls.

No one had much if an interest in taking in the sights through.

Megatron was _furious_. He seemed to be channelling most of that emotion into the grip he had on poor Skywarp's delicate digits, which he hadn't yet released after the warp.

"Ah, uh, Megatron, sir?" Skywarp said meekly, trying to twist his fingers free from the great black fist.

"All this time-" Megatron was snarling to himself, dragging Skywarp along the corridor with him, carelessly knocking a crystal vase off it's stand with his wide shoulders. Skywarp squeaked and dodged the shattered pieces, still his unwilling captive. "I had a blasted teleporter all this time, and _no one_ thought to-"

"Stop muttering like lunatic. This corridor is monitored," a hissing Slipstream came to Skywarp's rescue, smacking Megatron's wrist so hard his grip automatically released. Skywarp leapt out of reach and cradled his wrist against his chest, rubbing at sore sensors.

Megatron had the good grace to look apologetic. It was rather easy to make him feel guilty. Slipstream was beginning to understand why Starscream liked him so much.

Casting one last disapproving glare Megatron's way, she approached one of the security control panels. She didn't have the pass codes, so she punched it instead, loosening the cover so she could get at the wires beneath. "The Winglord will be schmoozing all the Autobots with some gaudy goodbye banquet party. We'll need a distraction if we want to get to him."

"I have no interest in that crowned fool," Megatron growled, following her to the control panel. His shadow blocked out the light she needed to be able to see what she was doing. "I'm here for my conjunx."

Slipstream jabbed him with a sharp elbow, catching him in the belly armour. She heard him huff, and smirked. "Stop breathing down my wings," she growled. "I know you're obsessed with Starscream, but unless you want to try and take this palace with half a dozen soldiers and two useless seekers, you'll need some more support."

"Useless?!" Thundercracker protested.

"Are your airforce not the support," Strika stepped forward dangerously, leaving Slipstream trapped between a wall and two large Decepticons.

"No, not if they can't get inside the locked-down palace," Slipstream folded her arms, holding her ground. "The Royal Guard answer to the Winglord first, the Prince second. With Stellaforce out of the way-"

"-Starscream can turn his guards on the remaining Autobots," Megatron realised. "But again, we'll need Starscream-"

"He'll be there," Slipstream sniffed, thrusting out a hand expectantly.

  
She wiggled her fingers at Strika coyly. Strika glowered and reluctantly retrieved the explosive charge from her subspace, slapping it into Slipstream's hand none too lightly. Slipstream shook her hand out as if it had hurt.

"You might want to be more gentle. This is live."

"Set the bomb," Strika boomed.

Slipstream connected the charge to the wiring of the control panel. "This'll take out the security network," she confirmed. "And then you can do what you Cons do best," she levelled Strika in particular with a glare, "Swoop in, kill the 'king' and steal the pretty prince for yourself."

"I cannot steal what is already mine," Megatron snarled, turning away and retreating to a safer distance.

Slipstream shrugged, offering the detonator to Strika once she'd finished. "Ladies first," she purred.

"I am no lady," Strika growled, personally offended.

Slipstream pushed the detonator it into her large hand anyway, closing her thick fingers around it for her. She winked, voice low as she leant in, "Neither am I."

Strika didn't pull away, glaring wordlessly, her dark optics boring into Slipstream's-

-until Skywarp pushed between them roughly, breaking their eye contact. "Stop flirting," he complained. "This is a rescue mission, not a date."

Slipstream rolled her optics, following after him. "Someone's jealous."

Strika watched her go, Slipstream's long wings swaying under their own weight as she walked. Strika released the breath she had been holding and squeezed the detonator, the corridor behind her filling with smoke and fire.

 

* * *

 

Starscream had been using the palace's back corridors and secret entrances since before he could walk. He had vague memories of being lured from his eloquence lessons by his creator under the very noses of his strict minders, swept up into his arms and carried off down the secret tunnels and out into the crystal gardens to lay for hours under the sky. Time with him had been brief, and Starscream had very few memories of him before he'd disappeared forever, but the few lessons he had managed to reach him were stilling coming in handy.

It seemed Deadlock had been using these same passageways to stalk him through the palace.

Starscream held off on demanding how the assassin had known about the unmapped corridors and doorways for now, watching from behind the curtain with Deadlock as the few palace guards stationed at the banquet hall struggled to seal off the doors against rough, drunken Autobots itching to take on the attackers themselves.

"Do me a favour and don't die," he told Deadlock, watching him arm a smoke grenade to add to the confusion, because, despite his eagerness to hunt Cloud Tread down, it would be a shame to miss all this chaos.

Deadlock arched a brow at his request, "Is that concern, I hear?"

"No." Starscream scowled. "You're Megatron's 'best assassin', and I don't want to have to listen to him complaining about how I got you killed for the rest of my married existence."

"Maybe you should have just come with me when we'd both had the chance?" Deadlock huffed, casually tossing the smoke grenade into the banquet hall. There was a questioning noise, then a surge of panicked voices added to the chaos as smoke began to fill the large room.

"Wait for me and I'll come with you."

"I'm not waiting," Starscream stepped out of the curtain and into the dark passageway. As much as he'd love to watch the Autobots and council mechs meet their deserved messy ends, he didn't have the luxury of time. "Cloud Tread's a coward. He will have heard the explosion. He'll already be escaping-"

"A coward deserves a coward death. Let a palace guard shoot him in the back," Deadlock's narrowed optics softened. "He's beneath your notice."

"Like I'd let _some guard_ get the satisfaction," Starscream scoffed. "He's not leaving this palace alive. After everything he's done to me, _I_ have to kill him-"

"Killing a servant isn't going to win you the throne, or Vos."

"He's not a servant, he's a- a _tormentor_. And it won't get me a throne but it'll make me feel better," Starscream snapped, not needing any more excuses than that.

"You should save your vengefulness for the council, for the Winglord." Deadlock lectured, like he had any idea of how things worked around here.

"Say hello to Megatron when he gets here," Starscream rolled his optics.

"What should I tell him?" Deadlock glowered. "That I let his conjunx galavant off on a petty revenge fantasy?"

"Sure, tell him that," Starscream leant out of the passage just far enough to snag Deadlock's arm and pull him close. The assassin allowed it with a frown of annoyance. "If he gives you trouble, this is from me-" Starscream darted forward and pressed a kiss to Deadlock's scowling mouth. It was quick and chaste, but brightened Deadlock's optics by several watts.

Starscream pulled away and went to strut down the passageway.

"...If that's you giving me permission to kiss your conjunx, don't get bratty with me when I actually do it!" Deadlock called after him.

Starscream waved a dismissive servo, jealousy far from his processor now.

 

* * *

 

The very moment the walls shook with the shockwaves of the explosion, Stellaforce knew who was to blame.

Sentinel Prime's hand shot out and gripped his wrist as though to steady him against the shaking floor which knocked most of his overcharged Autobots down. Perfectly balanced and poised no matter the circumstances, Stellaforce rolled his optics and let the delusional Prime draw him protectively closer, all the while struggling to look over the taller mech's broad shoulders towards the doors.

A guard caught themselves against banquet hall's doorway and caught his optic. Stellaforce nodded a wordless command, and they began worked quickly to start entering the emergency codes to initiate a lockdown. But there was a problem.

The system was down.

Typical.

They struggled to push the huge metal doors shut manually, but rather infuriatingly, his poor palace guards were outnumbered by Sentinel's rowdy Autobots, and several of them shoved their way through the doors before they could close, knocking aside the slighter seeker guards, their blasters raised and their denta bared.

A determined, bullheaded expression on his face, Sentinel moved as if to follow them.

With a scowl at the stupidity of him, Stellaforce hooked a digit in an armour seam and tugged the Prime back, arranging his expression into one of worry and concern. "You're _leaving_ me?" He exclaimed. "With Decepticons in the palace?"

The Prime's optics brightened. He took Stellaforce's forearms in his massive hands and held him at arms length, gaze imploring. "Your guards can protect you, I will-"

"My guards do not have your reputation," Stellaforce reminded him firmly. Megatron would tear through his seeker's like their armour was made of tissue. He lifted his wings to remind Sentinel of how lovely they looked, and how they needed _protecting_. If all the Autobots and guards were swarming the lower levels of the palace, converging on what Stellaforce suspected was a distraction, it would leave Megatron unchallenged to reclaim what he had _really_ come for.

Starscream.

And his head on a pike, probably.

He glanced at the dithering council members. They'd be no use in a battle.

"Megatron will come here," he pressed himself up against the Prime. "I know it."

Sentinel arched a brow. "And why is that?"

Stellaforce tipped a wing and gestured to where he had left a sulking Starscream in the entrance to the antechamber. "If _he_ can't have the Prince, no one can."

Sentinel's frown did not ease with his words, but worsened. Stellaforce whipped around to face the bait in question.

Only find the space behind him, and the antechamber, empty.

"What?" He began, just as a smoke grenade soared through the air and landed with a clunk at his pedes.

Stellaforce's claws shot out of the end of his digits as fury overwhelmed him. "That little-!"

_Poosh!_

The smoke grenade exploded right in his face, blinding him and filling his vents with smoke. He coughed, and heard Sentinel curse and online his gun somewhere to the left. Flashes of red illuminated the smoke as the Prime began shooting towards the doorway the smoke grenade had flown out of. In the low visibility he could hear the council mechs panicking and shouting, and as Stellaforce struggled to find the edge of the room and brace himself against a wall, as far from Sentinel's wild shots as possible, he cursed himself for not keeping Starscream on a tighter leash.

A _literal_ leash, that was.

He felt his way along the wall, blinded to everything but what was mere inches in front of him. Starscream will have slipped out of one of those Primus-forsaken passageways his creator had always used.

Primus knew why he'd fled. If he wanted to be reunited with the supposed 'love of his life' in the form of that dirty low-chaste miner, staying here and letting that thug come to him would have been the best of his options.

And then he could have had the honour of watching firsthand as Sentinel tore Megatron limb from limb and left him a heap of scrap not even fit for the junkyard.

Stellaforce reached the antechamber, and veered back when the air and smoke in front of him stirred with the approach of a fast moving mech. He glimpsed narrow slits of red light. Red optics. Decepticon. Heading straight for the idiotic Sentinel.

Unwilling to let some cocky Decepticon armed with a couple of smoke grenades take out his trump card against Megatron, Stellaforce struck out with his claws and felt, with immense satisfaction, them cut clean through the lightweight armour. There was a gasp of pain, and the noise alerted Sentinel to his approaching attackers position, then-

_Bang_

Stellaforce heard the Decepticon hit the floor with a clatter of armour.

Sentinel stamped on the smoke grenade and ground it into the floor. The smoke began to clear. Stellaforce waved the lingering clouds away as his sight began to sharpen, sneering at the unmoving Con on the floor and fawning at Sentinel.

"My _hero_ ," he drawled, stepping over the body. "How ever did you know he was there?"

Sentinel lifted his chin proudly, completely delusional. "Years of battle honed skills."

Before Stellaforce could butter him up with more unnoticed sarcasm, something banged into the large sealed doors of the banquet hall behind them, leaving a sizeable dent in it's wake. It appeared the Decepticons had brought a battering ram. How thoughtful.

There was another slam, and the dent grew in size. Sentinel lifted his weapon and pushed Stellaforce more securely behind him. The council began to panic again, scrambling for somewhere to hide, some of them diving under the banquet table, others fleeing into the passageway Starscream would have left open. Stellaforce sighed, exasperated, and opened his comm to send out an emergency tone to hail his guards so they would converge on his position.

Another slam finally split the doors apart, and then a huge fist was punching through the tiny gap to rip it wider, making enough room for a tank sized mech to fit her massive frame through.

"Strika," Sentinel seemed to recognise her, which couldn't be a good sign. "Where is your master?"

The large mech narrowed her optics, shouldering her way into the room, knocking one of the huge doors clean off it's hinge. Behind her, Stellaforce could see unconscious guards littering the hallway.

Strika straightened and lifted her head.

"Behind you."

A noise of panic catching in his throat, Stellaforce whipped around, knocking into Sentinel's back.

Strika was correct. Megatron _was_ behind them, and so were half a dozen Decepticons, pointing their guns at the head's of the councils members who had attempted to flee. A blue visored mech stood at the front, gun pointing between Stellaforce's optics. To Stellaforce's immense ire, the airforce general, Slipstream was stood with them. The word 'traitor' sat on the tip of his tongue.

She must have known, because she smirked at him, waving playfully.

But that was the least of his problems. Megatron himself was crouched to the left of the group, helm bowed as he brushed a large hand over the helm of the Decepticon Sentinel had shot. The Decepticon didn't respond to his touch.

Slowly, Megatron began to rise, his optics alight with burning rage.

He lifted his fusion cannon, aiming it's purple glow, not at Sentinel, but at Stellaforce.

"Give me Starscream," he hissed slowly through his teeth, every word straining with rage. "and I may be inclined to make it _quick_."

Stellaforce looked between Megatron, and the Decepticon he had obviously cared for bleeding out on the polished floor, and smirked.

The cannon whirred with charge, just as he knew it would.

Sentinel yanked him back and surged forward, shoving Megatron's cannon  up and to the side. It fired, but the blast went wide, hitting the ceiling and raining glass and metal down on the hall's occupants. The Decepticons rushed for cover when large chunks of ceiling threatened to crush them, and dodging a molten support beam, Sentinel threw himself at Megatron in a grapple.

Stamping footsteps signalled the charge of Strika, so Stellaforce threw himself down and slid elegantly under the banquet table for cover. Just in time. The palace guards arrived en masse and kicked down what remained of the door, firing at anything that moved.

Chaos reigned and in it, Stellaforce crawled out from beneath the other end of the table and easily slipped into the antechamber, where the passageway remained open and unobstructed. He cast a glance back into the room, watching just long enough to witness Megatron tackle and pin Sentinel, roaring as he punched him hard enough to crack the marble floor beneath his frame.

Stellaforce couldn't find it in him to conjure up too much sympathy. Better the Prime than him.

Starscream would be pleased at any rate. He wouldn't have to suffer Sentinel if the lecherous old fool was dead.

But he would have to suffer _him_ , he decided, matching down the passageway. Iacon was still safe and out of Decepticon reach, but he'd need a bargaining chip if he wanted to secure himself a comfortable position amongst them.

Megatron could kill Sentinel, he could take the palace, he could raze Vos, but there were always other cities, other thrones, and other Primes-to-be. It was time for plan b, he decided, exiting the passageway out into a much more peaceful section of the palace.

Megatron was going to have to march on Iacon itself if he wanted Starscream back. Maybe then he'd finally realise the little brat wasn't worth it.

 


	23. Privilege

Artwork hung crooked and vases's had fallen to smash on the floor. The polished marble was marred with scuffs from large clumsy pedes. Starscream wondered if the Autobots had passed through here on their drunken charge. If Sentinel somehow managed to avoid Megatron and survived all this, Starscream would have to send him a bill. These were soon to be _his_ priceless possessions after all.

He heard fast approaching footsteps behind him- not heavy enough to be a grounder.

"Your highness!" An out of breath guard was sprinting down the lengthy hallway to make pace with Starscream. Starscream didn't slow to let him catch his breath. "The palace is under attack-!"

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed." Starscream made a sharp turn, his fingers flexing on the handle of the dagger he held at his side.

"It's not safe for you to be down here."

Starscream stopped, causing the guard to stumble to a halt. The guard reached as though to take Starscream's arm, but Starscream stared at him, hard, and the extended hand fell limply to the guard's side.

"I," the guard swallowed, "The Winglord has called for your retrieval. We must leave now. The council- most have already been killed."

Starscream had to fight incredibly hard to keep the smile off his face. "A tragedy," he drawled, unable to keep the glee from his voice. "Whatever shall Vos do without them?"

The guard stared at him in concern, his optics wide and frightened. Starscream wasn't surprised -royal guards didn't see warfare often. It must have been the first time this one had even seen a _Decepticon_ , let alone one of the dead bodies they tended to leave behind.

"...You're in shock, your highness." The guard tried again to take his arm.

Starscream didn't need to pull away. At that moment the palace seemed to shake on it's very foundations and several pillars decorating the hallway cracked. The guard jumped away, pancaking himself closer to the wall as Starscream scowled at the dust raining from the opulently painted ceiling; his ancestors depicted in glorious flight above him.

If it came down he'd be having words with Megatron. This palace was _not_ built to withstand Decepticon brawling.

"Where did those Autobots run off to?" He asked curiously, almost absently.

The guard's optics darted between his prince and ceiling more than once before he managed to find his glossa again to speak.

"They doubled back to deal with the intruders, but, your highness-" the guard implored, "-the airforce have breached the place through the third tower. It must be a coop. They're attacking the Autobots."

Starscream paused at that interesting, unexpected piece of information. Perhaps Slipstream could be reasoned with after all? Or perhaps, more likely, she saw a more promising future for herself and her airforce under Starscream's rule, even if it meant allying with a foreign power.

Starscream smiled and approached the cowering guard to pat him lightly on an armoured shoulder. "Return to the Winglord," he commanded. "I'm sure he'll need your protection more than I do."

The guard didn't need much convincing- the palace shook again, not with a blast of a fusion cannon, or a detonated explosion, but with a muffled boom of sound so deep Starscream could feel it all the way in his spark- and his optics widened. With a curse he ran back in the direction of the chaos.

Naive fool, Starscream thought, listening to what he now recognised as Thundercracker's sonic booms, he hoped he survived. He could use easily controlled idiots like that when he was Winglord.

He left the hallway, slipping into a tighter corridor that led to a staircase that would in turn lead him to the lower levels. He detested steps, and with his thruster heels he was always more likely to slip on narrow ones like these, but with the attack ongoing and half the palace blacked-out, he wasn't going to ride down in one of the glass elevators.

The high-grade stores were on one of the lowest levels of the palace. Any lower and he'd be in the crypts. The store room was a place only servants and mechling Prince's looking to avoid their minders ventured. Some of the vintages of energon-wine were so old their cases's were covered in millions of years worth of dust. When Starscream entered, the dim lights were already active. Someone had already activated their sensors.

There were rows and rows of dark, fully stocked shelves. It was a maze to anyone unfamiliar with the majordomo's organisational system. Starscream stood in the central aisle of the store room, spotting a mark in the thick dust where someone had passed through recently and disturbed it.

He listened. The store room was silent, the only sounds coming from a hundred floors above, where the fight raged on.

Cloud Tread was still here, Starscream could tell. He was _hiding_.

Starscream held his weapon steady and began to prowl the aisles, taking his time, glancing behind cases and barrels, moving as stealthily as his frame could manage in the near silence, watching the shadows and studying the dust. Finger prints cutting through the dust on shelf, a rolling dust bunny in a room void of drafts, a disturbed case of energon, out of line with the others, like someone had knocked it on their way past.

The stagnantly musky air of the store room shifted behind Starscream. He froze.

Slowly he let his wings fall on his back, tucking them close to his frame like Strika had told him during their brief training. He tightened his grip on his weapon, flexing his fingers around the hilt. He wouldn't let it be knocked from his grasp this time, not by a fool like Cloud Tread.

"You've come to kill me."

Starscream looked over his shoulder, and hidden in the shadows, framed by the towering shelves of energon-wine, stood a pale Cloud Tread, clutching at the edge of the shelf like he was planning on pushing it over and burying Starscream under a millennia's worth of wine.

Opportunistic coward.

Starscream turned to face Cloud Tread fully, unafraid. The blade of his dagger glinted, catching Cloud Tread's optic.

With a sharp intake of breath at the realisation that Starscream had somehow armed himself, Cloud Tread did as Starscream predicted he would and gripped the shelving unit with both hands, pushing it. Bottles of energon-wine slipped from their cradles and smashed on the floor as the shelf began to lean forward.

Starscream didn't waste time rushing out of the way. He flicked his wrist, tossing the dagger, familiar enough with it's weight and balance to know where it would land.

Cloud Tread flinched, the shelve knocking back and landing on it's rear legs, the remaining bottles shaking in their cradles. His hand flew to his neck as he stumbled back and hit another shelve, energon already seeping steadily down his chest, through his fingers and down his arm.

He grasped the hilt of the dagger sticking out of his neck and gargled as he slid down the shelve, legs failing to support him. "You-!"

"I wouldn't pull it out if I were you," Starscream advised, closing the distance between them and standing over Cloud Tread as the mech who had made his life miserable began to slump to the dusty floor, energon puddling around him. Starscream sighed when he was close enough to see he hadn't severed the main fuel-line completely, only clipped it. He'd need to work on his aim. "You'll only die faster, and I have a few things to say."

Cloud Tread looked up at him, his mouth and chin blue with energon, "G-get it over with."

"No." Starscream leant against the neighbouring shelf and folded his arms, crossing his legs at the ankle. "I think I'm going to take my time, let you suffer slowly."

Cloud Tread looked aside with a mutter of disgust. "Of course you are," he glared, probably hoping he could leave Starscream with a few more spiteful insults before he finally did everyone a favour and deactivated. "You and your sire," he said thickly, "One and the same."

Starscream pushed away from the shelf. Cloud Tread was only speaking now to torment him further, but... Starscream couldn't remember the last time someone had mentioned his sire. His creator, yes, but never his sire; never the mysterious 'nobody' his creator had fallen in with against the council's wishes.

"Like _you_ ever knew him," Starscream scoffed, but despite himself, hoped Cloud Tread had, even if it was only in passing.

Cloud Tread make a sickeningly wet noise that might have been a laugh had his mouth not been filled with energon.

"Knew him? I _work_ for him." Cloud Tread lifted his head, his denta shining with energon as he smiled bitterly. "Don't tell me you never figured it out? You being oh so _clever_ -"

Starscream's spark was in his throat. His fingers were numb. "He's alive."

Cloud Tread rolled his optics, energon dripping from his mouth to the _pit-pat_ on the floor. He still had a hand tight around his neck and it seemed to be stemming the flow somewhat. "...Unfortunately."

Starscream crouched in front of Cloud Tread, uncaring of the life-fluid he getting on his pedes by standing in the puddle of Cloud Tread's energon. He grabbed one of his wings and yanked him upright with it. Cloud Tread's back hit the shelve with a clatter and he gasped, leg slipping out from under him and sliding through the energon.

"Who?" He demanded.

"You _know_ who!" Cloud Tread snarled, spitting energon. "You're so ... _self-obsessed_ it's a wonder you didn't figure it out on your own. Only one seeker in this palace matches your vanity, Starscream."

Starscream dropped him and stood up, vents struggling to suck in air as the musky atmosphere of the store room felt too stagnant and thick to filter his vents. "Stellaforce!?" He hissed. "He can't be-"

Cloud Tread's helm lolled, "Haven't you spent enough time in front of the mirror to realise you look ...just _like_ him? _Act_... just like him? That night... at the arena, when you killed that Decepticon in front of the _cheering_ crowd..." Cloud Tread blinked slowly, "It ...it was almost like you _were_ him. That look in your optics, that same cold, merciless, vengeful glint-"

Starscream's gaze hardened as he listened to Cloud Tread's dying rambles, connections struggling to take place in his mind as he grappled with the sort of mech he had always thought Stellaforce was, and the sort of mech he _is_.

"My creator's death," he began, though he doubted he even needed to ask, his hands already shaking as they tightened into fists.

Cloud Tread looked at him tiredly, slurring slightly, "You don't _really_ still believe any of that was an accident, do you? I... I saw him, afterwards. I saw what was left of him. No accident ...does that."

Starscream surged forward, tank full of rage, rising up his throat, "You-!"

"No!" Cloud Tread winced and flinched back. "I didn't- I had nothing to do with it! Nothing. Your creator, he was- he was kind, he was _loved_ ...He was nothing like _you_. But what could I do?! Put- put my own life on the line?! You've no idea the privilege you were raised in, no idea what _he_ does to anyone he suspects of disloyalty. Anyone that gets in his way-"

"Privilege?!" Starscream howled, looming over the pathetic dying seeker. "You call having my creator _killed_ a privilege? Him _ignoring_ my existence, letting lunatics like _you_ raise me, and then shipping me off to _Kaon_ , a _privilege_?!"

"At least he let you live," Cloud Tread mumbled slowly. "Huh ...he must have seen too much of himself in you."

"Let me live because I was a useful bargaining chip," Starscream snarled, sneering at Cloud Tread, not with hate, but with disgust. "A privilege I don't think I'll afford him."

He turned away, his rage refocusing on an entirely new, twice as deserved target.

"Wait!" He heard Cloud Tread choke as he began to walk away. "You're- you're just going to leave me?"

Starscream glared over his shoulder, remembering what Deadlock had tried to tell him before.

"You're beneath my notice," he sneered.

 

 


	24. Stained Glass Legacy

Megatron crossed the demolished banquet hall with his sword in hand, the tip dragging along the polished floor with a ring of sharp metal. Curtains hung in one of the antechambers and he grasped a handful of the expressive silk to clean the energon off his blade before sheaving it.

Sentinel Prime, figurehead of the Autobot Security Forces and pawn of the Senate, lay deactivated in the centre of the floor, his spark extinguished with one plunge of Megatron's blade, stabbing through the Prime's battle-grade reinforced armour with brute strength alone. Megatron swept a hand across his face as he stood over his fallen enemy, wiping away the splatter and grime from their brawl.

There was no Matrix in Sentinel's spark chamber. Had there had been, Megatron's strike could have sliced clean through the artefact and destroyed it. But worrying about where it currently resided was a problem for another day. This fight was won, but the day wasn't over.

The banquet hall had been a messy, undignified battle, with chaos reigning as his small gaggle of Decepticons had almost been overrun by Palace Guards. But it was over now, and the surviving guards had been rounded up into a circle near the centre of the room, surrounded by the airforce troops who had been summoned on Slipstream's command to aid the Decepticons.

Megatron studied them next. The guards' senseless loyalties to undeserving masters sickened him, and any other cycle he might have considered the poor brainwashed fools a lost cause and had them shot, put out of their misery, but Thundercracker and Skywarp had been quick to vouch on their behalf.

"They're loyal to Starscream too," Skywarp had implored.

Megatron begrudgingly let them have their way. Their sad pleading optics reminded him too much of their trine-leader for him to easily dismiss their whims.

Unsurprisingly some of the Vosian Council had managed to survive the ordeal and were now huddled in the middle of the captured guards, hiding behind their wings, as if Megatron couldn't see their glossy paint jobs and opulent jewellery from a mile away. They would be dealt with later, once Slipstream had identified them and could attest to their usefulness.

Preferably _before_ Starscream appeared from wherever he'd run off to and gleefully insisted Megatron kill them all anyway, and who was Megatron to deny his conjunx's bloodlust?

He paced the banquet hall, turning over deactivated frame's with the side of his pede. None of the seekers wore a crown, so the Winglord seemed to have slipped his grasp. In his younger, more impulsive days he might have given chase, hunted the deceitful traitor down, but the palace was barely secure, enemies still lurked in the hidden corners, and his mate was still missing,

"Slipstream!" He barked, whirling on the smirking seeker in question. She was propped up against the wall, distracting his best general, and seemed to think the job was done. "You promised me Starscream alive and well. Where is he?"

Slipstream's smug expression slipped away, but her attitude went nowhere, "As high as your opinion is of me I can't just materialise him out of thin air. I haven't gotten that far yet-"

Megatron turned on the group of kneeling guards and cowering council mechs. "Then we move on to the _incentive programme_."

The seekers on their knees shifted back from his advance, hunkering down and flinching when he reached in amongst them. He managed to snag one of the shiniest of wings and dragged a bejewelled council mech out of the group. The coward clawed at the other guards in an attempt to escape Megatron's grasp, but it did him little good. Megatron hauled him to his feet, a hand locked around his elegant high-caste neck, and lifted him off the floor.

"Ack-!"

" _Where_ is Starscream?"

Feet kicked in the air metres above the floor. The council seeker tried to shake his head, his hands locked around Megatron's thick wrist, glossy claws leaving superficial surface scratches on his battle armour.

"May _I_ make a suggestion?" Slipstream drawled, appearing in Megatron's line of sight behind the suffocating council seeker, looking decidedly unimpressed. Lurking behind her the usually level-headed Strika looked conflicted, like she wasn't sure who to side with anymore.

Curse these seekers and their seductive charms!

"What?!" He snarled, squeezing harder. The seeker wheezed like a broken squeaky toy.

"The Foreign Secretary might be a little more talkative if _someone_ didn't have their giant fist wrapped his neck."

Megatron dropped his captive and heard him fall to the floor with a loud clatter. He arched an equally unimpressed brow back at Slipstream. The Foreign Secretary began coughing on his hands and knees, making more of those pathetic wheezing noises.

Megatron ignored him for now, leaning in to better intimidate Slipstream. "General or not," he began, "you are _not_ indispensable."

Slipstream smirked and lifted a shoulder, gesturing to where her airforce outnumbered both his Decepticons and the remaining prisoners ten-to-one, "And _you_ are not in charge here. Not yet."

Megatron locked his optics back on the pathetic council seeker at his pedes.

"Where is Starscream?!" He demanded again, because the sooner he found that brat the sooner he could assert himself as the new leader here, before Slipstream betrayed them all and turned this into her _own_ military coup.

The Foreign Security pointed a shaky finger towards the antechamber, wheezing, "Disappeared -before- fight-"

Megatron moved away from the useless seeker, towards the antechamber again, wondering if he simply hadn't searched the room thoroughly enough. Starscream didn't strike him as the sort of mech who hid and cowered during a fight, and there was no reason for him not to have revealed himself now that his conjunx had arrived to rescue him -but then, not a lot of Starscream's actions had made much sense since the start of all this mess.

Like refusing to leave with Deadlock when'd had the chance.

Megatron glanced down at the assassin in question, frustration waring with sympathy. Soundwave was kneeling over him, using his minimal medical experience to patch up the hole Sentinel's gun had torn though Deadlock's shoulder armour. The assassin's plating was more designed for speed, agility, and stealth, and the high powered blaster-shot had torn though him like an electro knife through silicone. He would survive the damage, but recovery would be painful and lengthy.

He should have made Sentinel's end messier, _longer._ Should have _twisted_ the blade before driving it through his spark.

"The palace has medics," Soundwave tore his attention away from Deadlock and spoke, drawing Megatron out of his vengeful musing. He had an energon stained hand pressed to Deadlock's chest so he could monitor the strength of his spark without exposing the vulnerable orb of light to the dusty atmosphere of the trashed banquet hall.

"Those medics aren't to be trusted," Megatron growled, unwilling to leave one of his best mechs in the hands of medics who had betrayed their vows to routinely mistreat Starscream, their own Prince, on the orders of abusive minders for so many years.

"Medics; can be trusted at gun point."

Megatron supposed they could, if it was Soundwave watching over them. He stepped back and watched his lieutenant lift Deadlock's frame, the unconscious assassin hanging limp in his arms. He would have liked to go with them, but his priorities lay elsewhere. 

They passed Slipstream on their way out, who was finally doing something in beginning to organise a sweep of the palace to look for any remaining Autobots or officials, and most importantly, Starscream himself. The Winglord having made a similar disappearance seemed to be troubling her, though Megatron couldn't recall anyone ever mentioning that the royal snob had had any combat training. The palace would remain locked down until they were _both_ found.

"Let me look for him. I know him best," Thundercracker pleaded, doubly as stressed as Slipstream, though for entirely different reasons.

"Hey!" Skywarp cried, "He's _my_ best-friend. _I_ know him best."

"Neither of you are leaving this hall," Megatron growled. "Two missing seekers is enough. You'll remain with Strika-"

"We just proved we can handle ourselves!" Skywarp protested, pointing to himself proudly. "Teleporter, remember? And Thundercracker can make booms!"

"Making ' _booms_ ' and warping aren't necessarily going to be helpful in this situation." Megatron hissed, rapidly losing patience. "Stay with Strika."

"But we-"

Megatron turned on them, emotions surging again. "Do as I say or you'll be joining your brethren as prisoners on the floor." He nodded to the defeated guards in the centre of the room.

Thundercracker and Skywarp shut their mouths and ducked their heads, silently obeying, but clearly not happy about it.

"Now," he sighed, stowing his temper. "Tell me. Where would Starscream go?"

 

* * *

 

The Throne Room was a vast echoing chamber, and thus far, lay untouched by the battles that had wracked the palace. The booms and the blaster fire had fallen silent now, but Starscream didn't yet know who had prevailed. Megatron could be seizing the palace for him this very moment, or he could be dead at Sentinel's pedes.

His throat constricted at the idea. It was not a pleasant thought.

Either way, Starscream couldn't wait around to learn the outcome of Megatron's fight before deciding to act. This was something he had to do, whatever the consequences.

The throne sat at the end of the chamber, raised on it's golden edged dais. It was illuminated by the light streaming through seven towering stained-glass windows behind it, each glass design depicting a past Winglord, their crown's worn like halos around their bowed helms, hands clasped in front of their cockpits.

Starscream took a moment to take in their apathetic faces, studying their features. They seemed to have rounder faces that he did -it gave them a softener, more benevolent look. He could see his own reflection in the darker stained glass; his face was longer, sharper. Like Stellaforce's. He didn't take after his creator much in appearance.

He turned away from the stained-glass windows and stroked his digits across the back and armrests of the golden throne. It was a old one, relatively modest by some standards, with a gold trim and plush seat. He sat in it, leaning back and surveying the empty room. He fit in it perfectly. It felt right.

Now all he needed was a crown - and a crowd of adoring subjects.

Sound carried across the large room easily, and he looked up when one of the side doors slipped open with a well-oiled swish.

Stellaforce swept into the room, all grace and poise, chin up, nose in the air, the silk draped over his wings billowing in a nonexistent breeze -like he had his own portable wind machine hidden somewhere for the sole purpose of making him look as majestic and intimidating as possible.

Starscream straightened in the throne, and didn't rise.

Stellaforce's frown melted away the moment their optics locked, but Starscream could _see_ him now; the hardness to his gaze, the irritated twitch to his falsely smiling lips.

"Starscream," he breathed, striding into the room, arms open, "Thank the Gods you escaped. It's no longer safe here. We must go."

Starscream placed his hands on the throne's armrests, letting his head rest against the back. "Go where?"

The Winglord didn't seem to notice the emptiness of his tone. "Anywhere. Iacon," he said quickly. "We'll be safe behind their borders."

"You don't want to go to Iacon," Starscream told him.

Stellaforce stopped three paces from the foot of the throne, his expression shifting into one of suspicion. "...We cannot stay here-"

"The Prime is dead, isn't he?" Starscream interrupted, feeling the knot in his tanks loosen at the realisation. The only reason Stellaforce wouldn't have dragged his glorified protector along was if the Prime had proved himself less competent than Stellaforce would have liked.

If he wasn't here, he was with Megatron. And if he was with Megatron...

Stellaforce looked aside with an impatient noise. "To be perfectly candid, I don't _know_ , Starscream," his demeanour slipped as he snapped, which meant yes, the Prime likely was dead. "But our guard has been overrun and the airforce are staging a coup! That traitor Slipstream-"

"-Is acting on my orders," Starscream admitted, exhausted to his core and far too tired to play games with Stellaforce. He lifted his head and met the _**former**_ Winglord's gaze. "This is my palace now. And you're wearing my crown."

Stellaforce stared, his optics brightening with surprise.

It lasted all of three seconds before Stellaforce stuck a hand into his subspace and withdrew a blaster. There was a click and a whir and Starscream blinked at the muzzle pointed right between his optics.

"Get up," Stellaforce ordered coldly.

Starscream recalled the dagger he'd left protruding from Cloud Tread's neck down in the high-grade stores, now over a hundred floors below. His own subspace was empty, and his frame defenceless. He stood, but didn't move any closer.

"I never took much notice of how alike we are before tonight," he said.

"Stop stalling," Stellaforce waved the blaster to urge him on.

Starscream held his ground, continuing. "And how I was always compared to you. By the council, and the staff. Seen as second best. Almost as clever, _almost_ as beautiful-"

Stellaforce aimed the blaster at one of Starscream's wings; a less fatal shot, but one he'd be much more likely to take. "Stop rambling and get down here or I'll happily pull this trigger. You don't need your wings to run."

Starscream ignored the threat and took one purposeful step down from the dais, finishing with a pointed comment, "But I suppose sires are always compared to their sons, aren't they?"

Stellaforce's hand on the blaster twitched, as did his expression. He didn't lower it though.

"...How long have you known?" He asked carefully.

Starscream shrugged, "About being related up to you? I think a part of me always knew." He hardened his expression, forcing himself to stare right at Stellaforce's handsome, cold, hateful face. "About you _murdering_ my creator? Just now."

Stellaforce's optics sharpened. "...I loved your creator."

"Like you loved me?"

Stellaforce paused before answering, Starscream could see the calculations running through his processor as he tried to decide on an emotional response to fake. The blaster was lowered to Stellaforce's side. "I do love you."

Starscream pointedly glanced between the blaster and Stellaforce, "But you'd kill me too, if I got in the way."

He watched Stellaforce's hand flex around the grip of the blaster. "I did not kill your creator." He said firmly. A practiced statement. "He died in a ...a _tragic_ accident."

"That's not what I heard."

"You grew up in this palace," Stellaforce scoffed. "I thought I taught you better than to listen to baseless rumours."

" _You_ didn't teach me anything," Starscream hissed, balling his hands at his sides. "My creator _died_ and you left me to be raised by minders and servants and cruel sociopaths who cared about nothing but climbing their political and social ladders!"

"And it made you strong! It made you who you are!" Stellaforce insistent, gesturing to him proudly. "Look at you! Look at how you've brought this palace to it's knees! Could you have done this if you'd been coddled? Been the pampered little prince your creator had been raised to be?"

"But you loved my creator?" Starscream reminded him.

"I did," Stellaforce said seriously. "But he was ... _weak_. Weaker than you and I."

"So you killed him."

Stellaforce's optic twitched, but he knew better than to lose his temper. "I did not kill him," he said slowly. "I was devastated when we lost him, so much so I struggled to raise you myself. I thought it would be best, best for _you,_ if you were raised by others. I was in mourning-"

"And I wasn't?!"

"Mistakes were made," Stellaforce admitted, taking on a mournful frown. "I realise that now. In hiding our relationship hurt you, but I did it to _protect_ you. We do belong together." He lifted his hand, palm up, "So come with me, Starscream. We'll start a new life. Together."

Starscream looked at the hand, and hesitated. "Vos is my home. I belong here."

"I'm sure your conjunx would say otherwise," Stellaforce reminded him. "Megatron is, naturally, enamoured with you. He won't tolerate you living here. He'll want you by his side, on his war campaign. Far from things like thrones and luxuries."

"You don't know him like I do," Starscream rolled his glossa around his mouth, trying not to let the clever manipulations get to him.

"I've known a great many mechs like Megatron," Stellaforce shook his helm. He began to approach, silks fluttering across the polished floor. "Mechs like Sentinel Prime, who like their trophies as dangerous as they are beautiful. You'll never reach your full potential with him, never rule on your own. You'll always be under him, always be second best. And for mechs like us? 'Second' will never be enough."

 _Us_ , Starscream let the word bounce about his processor. Because they were so alike.

"Come with me, and we can live as royalty in Iacon. Deposed by the invading Decepticons, but accepted and loved by the Autobot upper echelons," Stellaforce beckoned with his hand again, "Or? Stay here, reunite with your beloved warlord and waste your life away on fighting his wars and raising his sparklings."

Starscream turned back and looked at the throne. He had spent his entire life as The Prince, as lesser, under Stellaforce's thumb. Did he really want to swap one master for another? Stellaforce for Megatron? Ruling for war? Privilege for squalor?

"You think you'll be happy," he heard Stellaforce continue slowly, in that same deep, honeyed voice. "Because you're young and naive, and you think you're in love-"

"I'm not in love," Starscream hissed, because he had never been victim to such sickening sentimentality.

"He'll grow bored of you. You'll grow bored of him. And one day you'll wake up and look at your life and realise you threw this all away for a mech with more principles than sense, and you'll resent him. And you'll do what our family has _always_ done to the things that held us back."

Starscream meet Stellaforce's gaze over his shoulder, throat tight and vision blurring.

"You don't belong with them," Stellaforce whispered imploringly, hand reaching, temptingly within reach. "Come with me."

Starscream stepped down from the dais, and took his sire's hand.

 

* * *

 

Megatron shouldn't have been surprised that the Throne Room was where Starscream's trine suggest he go to first. It was hardly the sort of place someone should use to hide; an open, empty room, countless entrances in and out and nowhere to take cover but behind the seat of power itself.

Only a fool would enter through the main doors, so Megatron consulted Skywarp's hastily drawn scribble-map for directions to one of the many side doors into the chamber. He found it after two wrong turns, a lot of cursing, and snapping Skywarp's terrible map in half in frustration.

The Throne Room resided on one of the upmost levels of the tall palace. It was eerily silent after the ruckus of the battle. Megatron's audials were still ringing from Thundercracker's sonic booms and the screeches of council seekers being shot down in the crossfire. The silent hallways were pristine and the polished floors untouched. No guards nor Autobots nor airforce had marched through here, so perhaps Starscream had been wise to pick this as his sanctuary, away from it all.

Fusion cannon armed, Megatron shouldered the door lock and used his own heavily armoured bicep to shield himself as he peered in through the doorway. His positioning hindered his line of sight, and he could see only the narrowest section of the room. The air was still, but smelt of fresh energon and discharged power cells.

Spark in his throat, Megatron leant out of the doorway to peer in, optics darting to the gruesomely massive energon splatter marring the silver floor and walls.

He stepped into the silent chamber and saw the body of a seeker on the floor, energon puddled under them, helm dark with matted life-fluid and warped armour. Megatron knelt beside the seeker and turned the body by the silk covered shoulder.

Stellaforce's dark, empty optics stared straight through him. Between them sat the neat entry wound of the blaster bolt that had blown his processor out through the back of his helm. There were deep claws marks on his left wing, and his right wrist had been snapped brutally. But most disturbing of all was how his chest plating had been ripped open to expose his spark chamber. The metal around it was still warm from where the spark had once glowed.

"I wanted to see if he had a spark," a voice called.

Megatron twisted around, cannon at the ready, to face the still figure watching him from the throne.

Starscream lounged above him, sprawled regally in his seat, a golden crown on his helm.

The bejewelled band of gold was ill-fitting, splattered with grease and life-fluids, and singed from the point-blank blaster shot -he must have plucked it straight off the former Winglord's head. His hands were noticeably dripping with energon from where he'd mangled Stellaforce's dying frame, but he himself appeared unharmed. He must have taken his opponent by surprise... 

Megatron straightened slowly, the instinctive urge to rush his conjunx and embrace him held at bay by the vacant expression on Starscream's face. He powered down his fusion cannon, taking slow cautious steps towards him.

"Starscream?"

"He _did_ have one by the way," Starscream continued, staring past Megatron to where Stellaforce lay on the floor. "I would have lost that bet."

Megatron dropped to his knees at the foot of the throne, so he was of a height with his seated conjunx. Starscream's bloodied hands were digging into the armrests, his claws leaving deep scorches in the softer, ancient metal.

Megatron prised one of his hands away from the armrest and lifted it to his mouth, uncaring of the energon as he brushed his lips across the backs of Starscream's fingers. "Look at me."

Starscream did the opposite, turning his head to the side. Megatron took his face in his hands and brought their foreheads together. Starscream shuttered his optics. 

"Sentinel is dead," Megatron told him, brushing thumbs under Starscream's optics, wiping away nonexistent tears. "The palace has been taken."

There was a stiff nod, Starscream's face contorting as he struggled to stifle his emotions.

"I'm here now," Megatron reassured, pulling Starscream towards him in an embrace. "Everything will be alright."

He felt Starscream rest his head on his shoulder and the singed crown toppled off his head to clatter to the floor. Megatron stroked a hand up and down Starscream's back, frowning at the past Winglords depicted in the stained-glass windows towering above them. The splatter of Stellaforce's energon had reached even them, and droplets slowly tracked down their white wings.

Starscream embraced him back, hands leaving bloodied finger prints across his armour.

 

 


	25. Aftermath

Starscream wanted to be alone. He didn't know how to communicate that fact without looking weak and vulnerable in front of the increasing number of 'supporters' crawling out of the woodwork to drop to their knees before him and gush about how thankful they were for his hostile takeover.

He didn't care that it wasn't genuine. He didn't even care that many of these influential seekers were only doing it because Megatron was looming three steps behind him with the biggest sword any of these sycophantic aristocrats had ever seen.

All he cared about was rest. He longed to return to the solitary of his quarters -his _old_ quarters, the _Prince's_ quarters. So he could lock the door, scrub the stench of energon from his frame, and crawl into a cool, empty berth until he had mustered the emotional strength to pull himself back together again.

He could feel Megatron's calculating gaze burning a hole into the back of his helm. They hadn't spoken yet, not properly at least. Nothing more than the nonsensical comforts Megatron had whispered into his audial in the throne room. That it was 'alright' and 'better now', like he had nothing to worry about ever again.

Stellaforce's parting words lingered in his processor, and as much as he hated those words, he hated even more that he couldn't stop thinking about them.

Megatron wasn't completely oblivious to his exhaustion though, and began shooing off Starscream's fair-weather supporters with the sort of wordless grunts and snarls that terrified the xenophobic high-caste. He kept a big hand on the small of Starscream's back, urging him forward, keeping their pace fast though the palace.

"Come," he bent forwards and spoke into Starscream's audial, rasp warm but tired. "Your trine are desperate to see you."

"No."

He saw Megatron's head turn out of the corner of his optic. He kept his gaze ahead, glaring at nothing. "I don't want to see them," he hissed quietly. "Not yet."

"Now is not the time to isolate yourself," Megatron said sternly.

"I'm not isolating myself," Starscream turned and glared at him, struggling to muster _any_ real emotion. Even anger. He just felt ...hollow. "I'm with you."

He snatched Megatron's hand off the small of his back and held it. His grip was somewhat more intense than necessary, and he was sure it felt more like he was trying to drag Megatron off against his will, rather than the gentle hold of someone trying to lead their lover back to their berth. "Let's go. We're celebrating."

Megatron walked with him, frowning, "There is still work to be done-"

"Let someone else handle it."

"-and you and I need to _talk_ ," Megatron's tone took on a serious edge.

Starscream ignored the tight feeling in his throat. "We can do both, can't we?"

"You're not in any fit state to-"

"I'm the Winglord!" Starscream whirled around like a red, white, blue tornado, optics alight and incensed. He thrust a digit at Megatron, denta bared, "and _I'm_ in charge. For the first time in _my life_ , _I'm_ in charge. And _I_ get to choose what I can and cannot do. _I_ get to pick who I will nor will not interface with, and when and where I will do that interfacing because this is _my life_ , and I-'!"

"Alright," Megatron agreed quietly, shifting his weight back onto his heels.

Starscream cut his rant off with a surprised blink, having not realised his voice had raised to a yell until Megatron had interrupted. A group of airforce seekers were standing behind Megatron in the corridor, ogling them like they were their favourite primetime holo-drama.

Starscream glared, opening his mouth to threaten them with the palace firing squad he'd just inherited.

"Let's go then," Megatron said before he could, and started walking.

Starscream's arm was almost wrenched out of it's socket when _he_ was suddenly the party being dragged along. He struggled to keep pace with Megatron's long, fast strides and, always being two steps behind, couldn't see the warlord's undoubtedly furious face.

His aching spark started pulsing faster. Megatron was already upset with him, maybe he shouldn't have added fuel to the fire. Shouldn't have started making demands of him. It was like Stellaforce had said. Royalty or not, Winglord nor not, Megatron expected him to be second to him.

They only spoke when Megatron demanded directions to his palace quarters. Starscream stuttered over whether to go back to his own rooms or have Megatron blast down the doors to Stellaforce's former quarters. They'd be inevitably more opulent, and claiming the berth in the most carnal way possible felt appropriately spiteful.

But he didn't have the resolve to face whatever they might find in there, to go through his late sire's personal belongings, to potentially stumble across something that might indicate, however unlikely, that Stellaforce _had_ cared about someone other than himself, had cared about _him_.

He felt his optics start to water when they reached his rooms. Megatron swung him around so he could unlock the door, and then they were striding in. Megatron didn't stop to appreciate or sneer at any of the opulently decorated room, instead releasing Starscream's hand and leaving him in the centre of the room to take a seat at the end of the berth.

He leant forwards, placing his forearms on his knees, and glared.

"Well?" He began harshly. "You want to 'celebrate'. Pop your panels and get over here."

Starscream shuffled, feeling awkward and vulnerable. He looked at the floor so he didn't have to meet Megatron's gaze.

"Starscream," Megatron voice was much softer when he next spoke. Starscream risked a glance, and found the rough mech watching him imploringly, optics gentle. "Come here."

Starscream walked across the floor with his head held high and his jaw clenched against a dangerously wobbly lower lip. He didn't look at Megatron when he was pulled down to sit on his knee, and quickly ducked his head and hid it against his thick neck.

"Things will seem better in the morning," Megatron whispered, rubbing a hand up and down his side.

That felt impossible. Starscream shook his head. "I killed my own sire."

Megatron's hand didn't stop it's comforting stroke, "He doesn't deserve to be called that."

"I'm going to turn into him," Starscream clenched his fists against Megatron's chest. "Aren't I?"

Megatron dropped his chin to the top of Starscream's helm, wrapping both arms around him firmly, "What did he say to you?"

Starscream swallowed, "...Nothing." He schooled his features and lifted his face out of Megatron's neck, summoning a smirk. "He never had the chance. I killed him the moment his back was turned."

Megatron didn't look entirely convinced, but Starscream didn't have to reveal the intimate details of his and Stellaforce's final conversation, and he knew his conjunx wasn't going to push for them. Not now at least, when he was tired, and emotional, and they had spent so long apart. He shifted on Megatron's knee, letting his hand wander down Megatron's front. "I know what'll take my mind off it."

Megatron huffed a laugh and grabbed the undersides of Starscream's thighs to lift him off his knee and plant him in his lap instead.

Legs spread across Megatron's powerful thighs, Starscream felt warmth bloom across his cheeks. "I don't have seals," he blurted out.

Megatron made an affirming noise and kissed him, two hands on his aft, squeezing like Starscream was a cheap hussy he'd picked up in a bar, his glossa thrusting past his lips and sweeping through his mouth. Starscream felt his internals grow tight and hot. He threw his arms around Megatron and kissed back, breath fluttering out of his vents at how liquid and sensual it was.

He'd been tricked into thinking Megatron was a gentleman, he realised, when one of the hands on his aft slipped up his back and groped a wing.

The kiss broke, leaving their lips swollen and shining. Starscream was breathing heavily, his optics wide and surprised.

"No seals," Megatron arched a brow. "Why, that's false advertising."

Starscream slapped his shoulder lightly in reproach. "My trine removed them."

Megatron looked less surprised now, which Starscream found equally offensive. It wasn't like he was some prude. "Stop pulling those faces."

Megatron kissed him lightly, "What faces?"

"The ones telling me what you're thinking."

Megatron's expression became impossibly smug and sultry then. His lip curled and his optics darkened to a smoulder. He leant in and brushed their noses together. Starscream melted and tried to lean in for a kiss, but Megatron leant back again. "And what does _this_ face tell you I'm thinking?"

Starscream stroked the back of Megatron's neck, tank in knots, "That you're going to 'face me."

"Yes-" Megatron leant in again, and Starscream relaxed his lips for another one of his long, sensual kisses, until Megatron smiled, a hairsbreadth from his lips. "-but not tonight."

"Wha-?"

Megatron tipped him off his lap and onto his back on the berth. Starscream sat up, stunned, as Megatron rose and brushed himself off. "Where- _Where are you going_?!" He demanded.

"To secure your throne, among other things," Megatron said seriously. "But don't worry. You won't be alone."

He crossed to the door and opened it to reveal, low and behold, Thundercracker and Skywarp, both undoubtedly ready to assault him with exactly the sort of fussing and coddling he'd much rather skip. Starscream grit his denta as the emotional, loud, fretful trine ran past Megatron and threw themselves at him.

"You'll feel better in the morning!" He heard Megatron call as he went through the door.

Buried under his trine-mates and their clingy, desperate hugs and frantic kisses, Starscream glowered.

He'd feel a whole lot better in the morning if he could get laid too.

 

* * *

 

"So that assassin Megatron sent to rescue you was pretty hot," Skywarp murmured an hour later, voice sleepy and warm.

Piled together in Starscream's berth in his royal quarters, things were beginning to feel a lot like they used to. Starscream was nestled in the middle, his trine-mate's heavy frames lying across his wings. He didn't have the spark to make them move, and they were warm, and still smelt vaguely Kaon-ish. It reminded him of Megatron. The hollow space in his chest seemed to be filling, and as reluctant as he'd thought he'd be to be around anyone, their gentle company was helping. _They_ were his family, and they _did_ care about him.

"He was _pretty_ annoying," Starscream murmured back. "Stubborn and clueless too, and never once obeyed my orders. I expect he had a list of unfounded complaints about me ready for Megatron the second he saw him."

Thundercracker lifted his head, "He got hurt."

Starscream sat up in a flash, knocking his trine-mate's off his wings, sending Skywarp's sleepy frame toppling off the berth. "Deadlock?"

"Screamer, what the heck?!" Skywarp complained, rubbing his back.

"He tried to attack Sentinel, from what I heard," Thundercracker's tone gentled. "He was shot. Were you ...close?"

Starscream started climbing out of the berth, "I told that idiot to leave the Prime to Megatron!"

"Where are you going?"

"To see him," Starscream snapped, stepping on Skywarp on his way out of the berth.

"Ow!"

"It's the middle of the night," Thundercracker hissed, chasing after him with a flurry of fabric. "The guards are still prisoners and everyone else is _drunk_ -"

"This is my palace!" Starscream snarled. "And I can wander it to my spark's content. I don't have a 'set bedtime', not anymore!"

Thundercracker and Skywarp begrudgingly followed him out of the door. Skywarp was rubbing the wing that had been stepped on resentfully. He leant close to Thundercracker, "Remind me again why we missed him?"

"Come on!" Starscream yelled.

 

* * *

 

The palace repair bay was filled with fancy equipment for treatments Megatron had never even heard of before. It wasn't just a place for maintenance and repair, it was a beauty spa. The body-shop took up the vast majority of the bay's available space, and the medics turned out to be more qualified for cosmetic work than internal repairs and spark-ology.

It was a disgrace. All this money and wealth, all the premium, top of the line life-saving equipment, wasting away in a sterile box of the room, reserved for the use of just a handful of 'special' mechs.

Megatron made a mental note to address it with Starscream, when his conjunx was more himself, that was.

Deadlock was still unconscious on the medical slab, but his fuel levels were creeping back up to normal and his spark-pulse was strengthening. Megatron wondered what could have possessed the level-headed, skilled assassin to take on Prime, and how he had been separated from the seeker he had sworn to protect and bring home in the first place.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. He didn't blame Deadlock for Starscream being alone with Stellaforce anymore than he blamed Starscream for Deadlock being alone in that banquet hall. Neither of them should have been anywhere near the palace in the first place. Placing two of his most stubborn mechs together and assuming they'd be able to get along and carry out his orders was a mistake on his part.

Deadlock stirred on the berth. Soundwave came forward quickly, planting a hand on his chest to keep him flat. "Caution," he advised. "Undergoing vital repairs."

Deadlock's squinting optics flicked to Megatron. He managed a dazed smile. "Some seeker you got there," he drawled.

Megatron surveyed Deadlock critically, an optical ridge raised. "More than you could handle."

It seemed Deadlock was much more laid back with half his pain sensors switched off. He even laughed. An action Megatron had never witnessed from him before. "I handled him just fine," he said, clearly delusional. He lifted a hand, beckoning Megatron down. "He wanted me to give you something."

Megatron obediently bent over him, leaning in. "What would that be? A punch?"

Deadlock caught his chin, pulled him down, and planted a firm, lingering kiss on his lips. Megatron froze, shocked, until Deadlock pulled back and dropped flat to the med berth again. "That."

Megatron hummed, straightening back up again and schooling his features. "...Thank you," he said stiffly, because even he didn't have the spark to reproach an injured and high subordinate.

"He loves you," Deadlock said dazedly, optics fluttering shut. "I'm good at reading people. Especially angry people."

"Starscream isn't angry." Megatron defended. "He's ...sad."

"He's both," Deadlock blinked slowly. " _I'm_ both. And I don't know if it ever goes away."

Megatron patted Deadlock's shoulder, concerned at the personal turn this drugged-up conversation was taking. "Rest."

Deadlock's optics shut again, and he fell blissfully silent. Megatron avoided Soundwave's very deliberate stare.

"Starscream's fine."

"Acknowledged." Soundwave's tone couldn't possibly hold any inflection of sass yet, somehow, it did.

Megatron glared. "There are things he needs to work through, but he's with his trine. Primus knows they will do more for him than me."

This time Soundwave said nothing. Only stared.

"...He lies to me," Megatron admitted, feeling uncomfortable. "Still."

"It takes time to build trust," Soundwave reassured.

"And seconds for someone to tear it down," Megatron growled. "He _did_ trust me. I don't know what that psychopath said to him, but it's done it's damage."

"Suggestion; be with him. Repair the damage."

"He seems determined to 'repair that damage' with a good hard 'face," Megatron dropped his chin to his fist, glaring. "I won't mar his first experience with memories of all this mess. And I want this relationship to be built on a foundation of something stronger than just 'facing."

"Trust will not be built from opposite ends of a palace."

Megatron grunted. Perhaps he was right.

At that very moment the doors burst open to admit the problem conjunx himself. Megatron stood up sharply, but Starscream only had optics for the patient reclined on the med-berth.

"He's not dead, is he?!"

"Negative." Soundwave turned the monitor screen around to show Starscream Deadlock's read outs, going strong, and getting stronger. "Deadlock; will make full recovery."

Starscream straightened and nodded, looking a little pale, and a little embarrassed that he'd rushed down here to see someone a lot further from death's door than he'd clearly expected.

Megatron stepped up beside him, glancing between the waiting trine in the medbay doorway and an expectant Soundwave. He reached out, "Starscream?"

His hand was, unsurprisingly, shrugged off in annoyance. "Don't pester me."

Megatron sighed, and glanced at their audience, "Might we have a moment alone?"

Thundercracker and Skywarp looked to Starscream, who shook his head, and even Soundwave, still monitoring Deadlock, refused to move. Megatron clenched his denta. "Fine, _we'll_ go."

Starscream pulled an indignant face. "No, we wo-!"

Megatron took Starscream's wrist and yanked him along, ignoring the squawks of 'stop it!' and 'unhand me!' - there were no remaining guards to rescue the Winglord and Starscream's trine certainly weren't brave enough to stop him from trying to have a private conversation with his own conjunx. Megatron took him into a private examination room. It was another white, sterile, spartan room, with nothing but a polished slab of metal for examinations and a plush chair to sit in.

Megatron let go of Starcream and blocked the door with his frame, crossing his arms. "You are not Stellaforce."

Starscream blinked, "I-"

"I don't know a great deal about your creator, but you're not him either," Megatron continued. "Nor are you the spoilt airhead the council seemed to think you are."

Starscream looked startling small and vulnerable in front of him. "...I know who I am," He hissed, but still didn't sound sure of himself.

"Then stop doubting yourself," Megatron continued. "I don't know what happened in that throne room, I don't know what he said to you -though I have a pretty good idea what you did to him in retaliation for those words- but none of that matters, because he is _dead_."

He stared at Starscream long and hard. "And the council is dead. All Vos has now is _you_. As it should have been from the start."

Starscream looked aside grumpily, "What am I to you?"

Megatron hadn't been expecting that question. "You're my conjunx."

"Besides that," Starscream pressed. "I'm Head Of State now, and with Slipstream's 'loyalty', the airforce is mine to bargain away."

"You're a Decepticon," Megatron reminded him. "No matter how many layers of paint they slapped over my insignias. The airforce are already part of this faction."

"Not if I change my mind," Starscream squinted. "And what would you do if I did? Would you _order_ me to hand them over? _Demand_ I give them to you. Stage your own coop with Slipstream?"

"No," Megatron rolled his optics, "Because you'd be my Air Commander. And those seekers would never betray their true Winglord."

Starscream fought back a smile, dropping his chin. "If only I looked a little more _like_ a true Winglord."

"You're in luck," Megatron murmured, reaching into his subspace for the sparkly trinket he had found down in the vaults when scouring the palace for hidden foes. "This appears to be in your size."

Starscream's optics widened to spotlights when Megatron held up the golden crown. Huge red precious stones were set at the base of three high points. Starscream lifted eager fingers to touch it, but Megatron brushed them away, lifting it to Starcream's head and adjusting it.

It fit perfectly.

Starscream traced the jewels, awed. "You found this in the vault?"

"Among others," Megatron nodded. "Your creator's personal affects from the looks of things. Stellaforce must have been hoarding them."

Starscream nodded, looking every bit the ruler in his new crown. "...I want to see it. What he hid."

Megatron extended a hand, "As you wish, your majesty."

Starscream managed a true smile when he took his hand, and squeezed. And the knot in Megatron's chest loosened considerably.

Starscream was going to be just fine. They both were.

 

 


	26. So Much For A Gladiator's Appetite

Starscream had wanted to recharge in his crown. Megatron humoured him for ten whole minutes, until trying to spoon Starscream came with repeated jabs in the throat from it's sharp points. It was then very firmly evicted from the berth.

"It's my berth," Starscream muttered from his prison in Megatron's arms. "If I want to wear it-"

"It's me or the crown. You can only have one at a time," Megatron gave him the ultimatum.

Starscream shut his mouth and clutched at the strong arms Megatron had wrapped around his frame, and that settled that.

Megatron couldn't remember the last time he'd felt at ease enough to sleep. Starscream was already recharging in his arms, his smooth, armoured frame somehow pliant and soft in his grasp, emitting heat and that uniquely Starscream-like fragrance- an expensive smelling musk that actually had nothing to do with the rich waxes he used.

He pushed his nose into the back of Starscream's neck and inhaled deeply, letting that scent flood his olfactory senses. Another wave of calm washed over him, and he heard Starscream mumble in his sleep as he began to turn. Megatron loosened his arms so Starscream could shift to lie facing him, sleepily nuzzling close to his chest. Megatron let his chin rest atop Starscream's now crown-less head, and drifted off to pleasant thoughts about what future they could have together now.

Soon, all their enemies would be dead, and the world would be safe for them. They would rule side-by-side, as Emperor and Winglord, a planet at peace and prosperous, the sort he would be proud to hand down to whatever offspring he and Starscream would build together.

Light breached the room through the gap in the long curtains some hours later, and Megatron stirred again when he felt a pair of lips on his jaw. He hummed, and tightened the arm lingering around Starscream's waist.

"Wake up," Starscream ordered, sliding a leg over his waist.

After four days of no rest and barely three hours recharge to recover from it, Megatron wasn't quite ready to rouse, even with a warm, interested seeker crawling all over him. "Later," he grunted.

He felt Starscream lean over him and heard the clink of a crown being recovered from the berth-side table. He cracked an optic online to find Starscream straddling his upper waist, and adjusting the crown atop his head so it sat straight.

He closed his optics again with a sigh. "Alright..."

He heard Starscream trill in excitement, and his warm body draped itself over him. Starscream kissed him, and he lazily responded, lifting hands to full hips and stroking the smooth armour with his thumbs. Warm and sleepy and languid, Starscream's enthusiasm felt a little overwhelming, and it was all Megatron could do to weather the hurried touches and panting breaths.

"Easy," he murmured, turning out of a kiss to try and slow things down. "Take it easy."

"I'm not taking any chances," Starscream hissed, and kissed a constellation of kisses across his jaw to breathe in his audial. "Who knows how long we have before someone comes bursting in here and interrupts-"

"Starscream!" Skywarp's voice yelled through the door, half a second before the purple pest himself warped with a flash of blinding light to the end of the berth.

Starscream punched the headboard right beside Megatron's head in frustration, and Megatron jumped, optics flashing online properly as he woke to full alertness.

Skywarp, taking note of the compromising position they were tangled in, turned an interesting shade of pink. "Oh, er, you're ... _busy_ -"

"What do you want ?!" Starscream bellowed, twisting at the waist to face him, having no intention of removing himself from Megatron's lap. Skywarp, likewise, had no intention of warping out of the room again like any decently embarrassed person would.

"It's important!" Skywarp protested, his optics flicking between his trine-leader and Megatron, quite clearly wishing -like Megatron was- for Starscream to detach himself from his conjunx and make this a whole lot less awkward. "Slipstream had her seekers check the high-grade stores and-"

"Starscream!" The doors shot open to emit Thundercracker, who was only just catching up to his teleporting trine-mate. "Cloud Tread's miss- _ah_!"

Unlike Skywarp, Thundercracker was decently embarrassed at having walked in on them. His hand flew to his optics to shield them from the view on the berth, and whatever it's occupants may or may not have been about to do. "Oh Primus. Sorry! I should have knocked-"

"Nothing's happening!" Starscream yelled, turning pink himself.

But Thundercracker was too mortified to even _look_. He stood, routed to the spot, optics still covered and hand reaching blinding for the door to make his escape.

"Cloud Tread wasn't in the high-grade stores," Skywarp finally blurted out what they'd come here to tell him.

Starscream clearly forgot about the embarrassment of being walked in on, and turned as white as a sheet. Megatron sat up quickly, dislodging Starscream from his waist so he slipped down into his lap instead.

"What?" He said blankly.

"There was loads of energon, but no dead Cloud Tread," Skywarp brought his hand from around his back and opened his fist to reveal a bloodied dagger. Megatron recognised it as the one he had given Starscream when they conjunxed.

He held his hand out to receive it, since Starscream seemed incapable of doing anything but staring at it.

"You said he was dead," Megatron murmured.

"I didn't wait around to see him die," Starscream admitted, starting to sound less shocked and more frustrated. "...I thought it was a sure thing."

"Search the palace," Megatron ordered.

"We did," Thundercracker said from behind the hand still covering his optics. "He's long gone."

Megatron closed his fist around the dagger and patted Starscream's side, "Then that just gives us another opportunity to punish him."

Starscream shook his head, and slipped his hand into Megatron's, taking the bloodied dagger back. "No."

"No?" Skywarp pulled a face.

"Let him run and hide," Starscream sniffed, leaning against Megatron's chest. "I have better things to do with my time, more _important_ people to hunt down and kill."

Megatron felt a swell of pride at his words He flicked the edge of Starscream's crown playfully, "And a city to rule."

He saw Starscream try to hide a smile as he brought his hands up to correct his crown. "Yes, that too."

"And sparklings to make," Skywarp smirked.

"Out!" Starscream bellowed, good mood evaporating, "Both of you!"

Skywarp scoffed and grabbed Thundercracker's hand on the way out, dragging him to the door. "Alright, we're going! See you at your coronation."

"Coronation?" Megatron asked when the door slid shut. "Don't waste time, do you?"

"Cuts down on the chances of usurpers," Starscream sighed, and began to get out of the berth.

Megatron arched a brow, "And where are you going? You don't want to will the morning away making love?"

"I've changed my mind," Starscream stuck in nose in the air and picked up the purple silks he had found among his creator's lost effects down in the vault and began to attach them to his wings with silver clips -also his creator's. "I want to wait until after my coronation."

Megatron hummed, surprised, and Starscream turned with a rush of majestically fluttering fabric. "And until _after_ you've had a shower." His nose wrinkled. "You smell bad."

Megatron watched him strut his way to the door, "And give yourself a wax, for Primus's sake!" He called across the room. "The whole city will be watching, I don't want them thinking I conjunxed a slob."

The door shut behind him and Megatron sighed, sinking back into the berth.

He needed more recharge if he was expected to cope with _that_ all cycle.

 

* * *

 

The palace was filled, and _not_ with high-caste seekers with bejewelled wings and pointed noses in the air, but with Decepticons; muddy and scuffed and traipsing mud all through the glossy palace halls. Starscream paused by a decorative crystal vase that must have been picked up by one of these visitors -if the large greasy smudge marks were any indication of things.

"Where are all the cleaning drones?" Skywarp asked, nose wrinkling at the sight of it.

"Some of the Decepticons were using them as target practice last night after running out of council seekers to shoot," Thundercracker said solemnly. "You'll need to invest in some more," he told Starscream.

"Whatever," Starscream sighed, and knocked the crystal vase off it's pedestal to smash on the floor. He heard his trine gasp, but he had always hated that vase anyway. He hated most of the decor Stellaforce had installed about the palace. "I can sell a few of the more gaudy paintings if need be."

"From the royal art collection?" Skywarp asked nervously.

" _Stellaforce's_ royal art collection," Starscream sniffed. "It's either sell it or burn it."

Because he most certainly didn't want to look at it anymore.

With smell of energon and used blaster cells still lingering in the dishevelled space, it wasn't quite the sort of grand opulence Starscream had envisioned when thinking about the day he would become Winglord, how ever unlikely it had always seemed. He had pictured crowds of glamourous seekers, all on their knees, with gold everywhere, and a beautiful conjunx watching him adoringly from the front row as he stood in front of everyone in a cape and crown and fireworks went off and it would go down in history as the greatest coronation Vos had ever seen.

Starscream stepped into the throne room and surveyed the boisterous rabble of Decepticons and airforce grunts and the odd terrified but supposedly 'loyal' palace administrator, and sighed. At least someone had had the wisdom to wipe Stellaforce's energon off the stained-glass windows.

An eventual hush fell over the hall when his audience finally noticed he had arrived in the doorway. He straightened up, tossed his helm back, and strode into the parting crowd. Thundercracker and Skywarp followed at a distance, flanking him much like they would in the air.

He was pleased to see the clueless Decepticons at least had the sense to follow the airforce's lead in bowing their helms as he passed, however insincerely they might have done it. He didn't miss how their optics lingered on his glossy armour, and the newly restored, bright purple Decepticon insignias he had had repainted on his wings.

When he reached the front of the throne room he saw Megatron waiting in the wings, and his spark jumped into his throat.

One part of his younger self's fantasies had come true at least; his beautiful conjunx, watching adoringly.

Megatron had polished himself to a high shine. Starscream had never seen him glimmer before. There wasn't a scuff or smudge to be seen. To top the vision of beauty off, Megatron looked incredibly uncomfortable with his shiny self, and was standing awkwardly stiff, like he was worried he'd bush his massive shoulder against something or someone and ruin the image.

Starscream suppressed a smile and ascended the throne, turning with a flourish so the purple silks across his wings fanned out. He sat back, and surveyed his new subjects.

The airforce kept their heads bowed in deference, but the Decepticons, as uncouth as they were, erupted in cheers.

Starscream smirked anyway.

 

* * *

 

The distinct lack of cleaning drones meant the Banquet Hall was still trashed and covered in scorch marks. Soundwave argued that logically, it would serve as the best place to hold a celebratory after-party as Decepticons were known to be quite rowdy and clumsy and unused to minding expensive decor. Starscream took in the energon-stained floor and ripped curtains and splintered banquet table and nodded. They might as well destroy what remained of this room than risk ruining a whole new one.

He wanted to redecorate the Banquet Hall anyway. Red would be a much more fitting colour for it.

And now crowned and free, Starscream should have been revelling with his adopted people. The Decepticons certainly seemed to have accepted him, but he still felt out of place, different, removed from their lifestyles and jokes and uncouthness. He watched Megatron work the room with ease, clasping shoulders and forearms, the perfect balance between casual and formal. They adored him.

They only tolerated Starscream.

Mollified by the realisation, he adopted a more aloft approach to socialising, keeping an optic out for those few rare Decepticons he knew, and could trust to be able to carry a conversation that didn't consist solely of sex jokes.

Fortunately, he spotted one.

Deadlock had managed to drag himself out of the medbay and was back to his grumpy, stoic self. He, like Starscream, had picked a quiet spot along the edge of the room, and was glaring hard enough to dissuade any chirpy well wishers.

Starscream strutted through the crowds to inflict his company on him.

"I see you managed to get yourself shot," Starscream said by way of greeting, nodding to the repair patch on Deadlock's shoulder.

Deadlock's optics narrowed further. "I see you managed to get everything you ever wanted."

"Almost," Starscream agreed quietly, with an accepting nod. "...Thank you."

Deadlock blinked, "For what?"

"Your advice. You're not as stupid as your stripper hips make you look."

Deadlock nodded slowly, "I'm surprised you actually took it."

"I'm surprised you actually _kissed_ my _conjunx_ ," Starscream's said through his smiling teeth.

Deadlock winced, and quickly rearranged his expression, "I was following your orders."

"I was being _cute_ when I gave those 'orders'," Starscream snapped, "I didn't know if you were going to make it out of there alive." He extended a clawed digit threateningly, "Do _not_ kiss my conjunx again."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Deadlock promised, but it sounded a little sarcastic. Starscream squinted at him. Deadlock sobered up, expression softening. "I am glad things worked out for you. And that your enemies have been dealt with."

"Not _all_ my enemies."

Deadlock's expression darkened again. His hand fell to the blaster on his hip. "Something I can help with."

"No," Starscream waved him off, "I kill my enemies myself. I'll get to it eventually."

Deadlock nodded, "As you're Megatron's conjunx and right hand mech, I'll always be at your disposal. Your majesty."

"I'm sure," Starscream ended the conversation with a flippant little wave Deadlock rolled his optics at. As much as he was 'enjoying' this insipid small talk with the assassin, Slipstream had just slipped into the banquet hall behind them, looking every bit like she'd been up to no good.

Starscream wracked his processor, trying to recall if she had even been at the coronation.

His gaze hardened suspiciously and he crossed the room in a whirlwind of silks, pushing aside well wishers and drunk Decepticons alike, to stand before her -just as Strika's massive frame squeezed through the gap in the door behind her.

Starscream blinked. Slipstream blinked. Strika glared.

" _Urgh_!" Starscream said, disgusted. "Typical. And here I thought you'd betrayed the council out of newfound principles. But it seems you're only interested in 'sampling the Decepticon cuisine'."

"I have principles," Slipstream defended, quickly brushing at a paint smudge marring her cockpit, the same shade of paint as Strika's torso. "And don't act like you've not been _sampling_ a Decepticon of your own."

"How dare you!" Starscream cried, scandalised, "I'm your Winglord! I could have you executed for remarks like that."

Strika stepped forward.

"Not that I will," Starscream quickly stepped back. "I'm ...just saying I could."

Slipstream opened her mouth to make another smug comment, but one of Strika's big hands landed on her wing and began to steer her away. "Wait," she protested. "I just wanted to-"

"Enough teasing," Strika's stern voice boomed. "Come."

Starscream watched, immensely satisfied, as Slipstream's irritating personage was dragged off into the crowds. Perhaps that relationship was a blessing after all. He pitied Slipstream, pairing herself off with such a rough, uncouth, _demanding_ -

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and span him around. Starscream blinked up at Megatron's handsome, clean face. "Let's go."

"Go-?"

Starscream tripped over his own feet when Megatron began dragging him along by the hand back through the crowd of increasingly drunk partiers.

Several Decepticons bowed as they passed, now unable to get out of the habit. Some were too charged to keep their balance and fell flat on their faces. Others, braver or drunker, or simply stupider, tried to touch Starscream as he passed, to catch a hand to kiss, or stroke a wing.

Megatron snarled wordlessly and suddenly the path to the doorway was clear as they scattered and cowered away.

"My party!" Starscream bemoaned when they were out in the corridor. "This had better be important, Megatron. If I have to miss my own-"

Megatron swung him around, pressed him up against the wall, and kissed him. Starscream melted into it in an instance, wings falling and spark soaring. Megatron broke the kiss and pushed their noses together, breathing against his lips hotly. "Let me have you."

Starscream's fuel pump was about to burst out of his chassis. His optics surged. He nodded at Megatron stupidly.

Megatron took his hand again, squeezing it, "Your berth?"

Starscream blinked himself out of his stupor, shaking his head. "No, no," he breathed, letting a smile cross his mouth. "I have a better idea."

 

* * *

 

Starscream darted ahead of Megatron with a laugh and threw himself into the throne. The old metal creaked under his weight as he lounged, draping his arms over the armrests and letting his legs splay, poking subtle fun at how he had seen Megatron sit in his own much larger, uglier, blander throne.

Megatron strolled in behind him, hands clasped behind his back with a rare sort of restraint as he took Starscream in.

"Your majesty," he purred warmly, glancing past Starscream to the Winglord's painted on the windows, staring at them in judgment. "Are you sure this is wise?"

"It's my throne," Starscream reminded him for the hundredth time. "And I'll do with it as I wish."

"Even defile it?" Megatron arched a brow.

"What good is a throne if you can't get up to no good in it," Starscream tapped his foot and lifted a finger to beckon Megatron closer. "Come now peasant, kneel before your better."

Megatron didn't kneel. And Starscream's spark skipped a beat as for a moment, he feared he'd gotten carried away and pushed at Megatron's dignity a little too far.

"It's your coronation day," Megatron said smoothly, coming to stand over Starscream in the throne. "So I'll tolerate your sass today. But don't let your newfound status get you into the habit of bossing me around."

"I'm not bossing you around because I'm the Winglord," Starscream scoffed, lifting a foot and letting it drag up and down Megatron's shin. "If I tell you what to do, it's because I'm your conjunx. And if you want to make me happy, you'll do as I say."

Megatron made a begrudging noise and dropped to his knees in front of the throne with a creak and a thump. Starscream looked into his face, and was suddenly reminded of the last time Megatron had knelt before him like this, when there had been blood on his hands and a body on the floor.

Megatron must have seen something shift in his demeanour, because his expression softened. His hands came up to cup Starscream's face. "And how may I serve you, your majesty?"

Starscream took Megatron's wrists and pulled them away from his face, patting the seat of the throne, "Join me."

Megatron swept him up and rose all in one smooth movement. One second Starscream was sat comfortably in his throne, the next he had arms and legs wrapped around Megatron's torso as the larger mech turned and planted himself in the throne. It was almost too small for him, and a tight fit for them both, but Starscream didn't take much note of his cramped knees as he rose onto them and surged up to capture Megatron's mouth in a kiss.

Megatron tasted like high-grade, from the sip or two he'd managed during the celebratory toasts in honour of Starscream's reign. Neither of them felt relaxed or safe enough to inhibit themselves with an overcharge just yet, and that Megatron was still being as vigilant and careful and protective of him lit a fire of want under Starscream's panels.

He fumbled to open them, kiss turning clumsy and hurried. Megatron caught his chin and steadied him again, drawing back with a gentle 'hush' and kissing him with a level of restraint that was sure to turn Starscream _mad_. He whined, scratching at Megatron's beautifully polished armour.

"We don't have to rush," Megatron said warmly, voice dripping with desire, lips brushing Starscream's.

He reached behind him and grabbed a fistful of the silks hanging from Starscream's wings. With one firm tug, he ripped them off. The silver slips fell and clattered across the floor as the fabric fluttered away. Back and wings better exposed, Megatron let his warm hands roam them as they came together in another kiss. Starscream tilted his head and thrust his tongue into Megatron's mouth, aware that his crown was slipping, and not caring in the slightest.

He felt it slip off his helm but didn't hear it hit the ground. He winked open an optic to see Megatron had caught it mid-kiss and was carefully balancing it on the armrest of the throne instead. Starscream moaned into their kiss, locking his arms around Megatron's thick neck and rolling his hips against him.

Without warning or explanation, Megatron broke the kiss, and pushed Starscream out of his lap and off the throne. Starscream stumbled on his feet, "What-?"

Megatron was tugging Starscream back into his lap the next second, spinning him around so his back and wings were flush to his massive chest. Starscream tilted his head back to meet his gaze, frowning, but his cheeks were on fire the next second when Megatron slithered a hand down his front, past his cockpit, and with an ease that reminded Starscream how of embarrassingly inexperienced he was at this, Megatron thumbed open his valve panel.

Starscream made an undignified noise and instinctively tried to shut his thighs, but Megatron hooked Starscream's legs over his own knees and spread him open, and pushed a finger inside him.

Laid out across Megatron's chest, Starscream tensed and hissed at the dry burn. He remembered Knock Out's words from what seemed like so long ago now, and fumbled in his subspace for the lubricant the medic had given him, face even hotter with mortification. "Wait, I-"

But Megatron made an apologetic noise and removed his finger, bringing it back to his mouth and licking it. Starscream stared, watching Megatron reach for him again, and shivered when now damp fingers circled the node at the front of his valve with firm, deliberate strokes.

"Better?"

Starscream let his head fall back against Megatron's shoulder with a thunk, rocking his hips into the sensation. He nodded listlessly.

Megatron's other hand played with his turbine, fingers brushing the fan blades and making them spin. The thumb left his node and Starscream felt fingers probing at the softening mesh rim of his valve next, he looked down and watched Megatron press two fingers into him. It most certainly wasn't dry this time, nor did it burn.

"Much better," Megatron decided for himself, moving his fingers in and out, maddeningly slowly.

Liquid inside and out, Starscream thought he was going to melt right off his lap and puddle on the floor. His mouth fell open as he breathed thickly, responding lazily when Megatron nuzzled the side of his head.

Megatron toyed with him for what felt like hours, until he was squirming and whining on his lap, one hand clutching Megatron's thigh, the other scratching the throne's armrest. Megatron's pumping fingers were thick enough and big enough in Starscream's tight, flexing valve that he could have overloaded from them alone, had they moved only a little faster. Starscream sobbed brokenly, wriggling his hips, needing more, and Megatron relented with a kiss to the back of his neck, pulling his fingers free.

They were so wet they _dripped_ , Starscream noticed, frame heating with an throb.

Megatron had him lean forwards, and Starscream heard the hiss of his spike emerging. He leant back, and felt stiff, hot iron hit his aft. He tired to turn around, wanting to see it, to touch it, wondering what it felt like.

Megatron's hand on his hips prevented that though. He was urged to stand on shaking legs, hands griping the armrests, back bowed, and aft out, and listened to the slick sheen of a hand working fast over erect metal. Megatron grunted, and hands came back to cup Starscream hips and slowly guide him back to sit.

Both in Megatron's lap, and _on_ his spike.

Starscream felt the tip, hot and wet, bump his valve rim. Megatron readjusted, holding it steady, and Starscream's optics rolled into the back of his helm when it began to stretch open his mesh as it pressed into him.

"Megatron," he sobbed, valve throbbing and arms shaking so much he wasn't sure they would support him.

An arm came around his chest and pulled him back, flush to Megatron's chest. The spike sunk deep, as far as it could go, and Starscream once again found himself in Megatron's lap, panting and gasping. Overwhelmed.

"Shh," Megatron stroked a wing, keeping still. "You're alright."

Starscream shook his head, snarling an indignant, "Stop- _coddling_ me!"

"You're beautiful," Megatron purred.

"Shut up," Starscream hissed through his teeth, knowing he was anything but, hot and shaking and flushed. "Primus, just shut up."

He felt Megatron take his waist to steady him, adjusting their position in the throne. Laid across Megatron's front with his legs wide open and his valve straining around a thick girth, Starscream's breath stuttered out of him at the unexpected shift. His hands flew to the hands atop his hips, his claws cutting into the thick armoured gauntlets. Megatron murmured something nonsensical, and Starscream barely clung to the last vestiges of his dignity stopping him from pleading for gentility.

He thankfully didn't need to ask. Megatron mouthed at his neck and collar seams, and used the hands still planted on Starscream's hips to circle him, grinding his spike against deep set nodes, working his mesh open.

The pressure of the tight fit on his callipers began to ease as Starscream gradually relaxed, and he was soon undulating his hips into Megatron, rolling his stomach in serpentine waves and arching his back.

With Starscream now a more active participate, Megatron let one of his hands wander, roaming the expanse of Starscream's front, stroking his cockpit and pinching a turbine. Starscream let his optics shutter and lost himself to the gentle rhythm of their movements, the roughness of the hands on his frame and the musk of overheated hardware. He turned his head and found Megatron watching him, his own optics hooded and lustful.

Megatron's hips drove upwards, and Starscream's vents hitched at the less than gentle action. When it happened again he realised it wasn't a slip in the pace, and struggled to brace himself for the vigorous turn their interface was taking.

"Megatron," he said as a gasp, claws clutching tighter, optics brightening at the increasing sensation, almost too much for his inexperienced array to cope with.

He overloaded with a hitching cry, head lolling back over Megatron's shoulder and back strut arching. Megatron's hand slipped under a thigh and shifted it aside, and suddenly he was reaching deeper, slamming his hips up and grunting into Starscream's audial now that he had his wordless permission to take his own fill.

Starscream clenched his optics tight and stiffened at an unusual sensation, electric and liquid all at once. It took him three full breathing cycles to recognise it for what it was, with Megatron's head dropping into the crock of his neck as he finished with a twitch and a groan and a pulse of transfluid up into Starscream's internals.

Then everything went quiet. They were but two heaps of damp, overheated metal pinging as they cooled on the throne.

"...Megatron?" Starscream breathed.

"Hm," Megatron's hands lingered on his waist, his big nose was still buried in his throat cables.

Starscream tentatively flexed his valve. He felt Megatron twitch beneath him, emitting another groan that wasn't quite pleasure, but not pain either.

Frame charged and hot, and one overload nowhere near enough, Starscream poked Megatron in the side of the head until smouldering optics opened to squint at him.

"We're doing that again," he said eagerly.

 

* * *

 

Starscream stood out on the Winglord's Royal Balcony and leant over the edge of the golden railing to listen to the jeers and laughter from the celebrations carrying on in the opposite tower. He and Megatron hadn't managed to return to the Banquet Hall, and had instead chosen to retreat to a more private setting for the remainder of the evening.

He turned away from the view and looked back into the Winglord's quarters he had decided to claim as his own, seeing as he _was_ the Winglord now and they were his by _right_! Inside, through the doorway, he could see Megatron still sprawled across the berth where he'd left him.

He wasn't quite so shiny anymore, Starscream noted with a smirk.

He strolled back inside, in an uncommonly good mood from the half dozen overload's he had experienced since his coronation, all at the hands -and spike and mouth- of his devoted conjunx.

Megatron wasn't faring so well. Starscream leapt back onto the berth to straddle him, ignoring the tired groan from beneath the pillow Megatron had over his face. He began to peal it away. Megatron squinted up at him. "No more."

Starscream's smile slipped away, "So much for a 'gladiator's insatiable appetite'."

"I am a gladiator no longer," Megatron rumbled. "I am but a Winglord's _exhausted_ consort."

Starscream fell to the side of him on the berth, taking one of his arms and hugging it. "Don't fall asleep." He gave him a little shake. "Don't end the night early."

"We'll have all morning." Megatron said tiredly. "And all next night. And there'll be many more to come."

Starscream wasn't so sure. "...Will there?"

An optic winked online. Starscream quickly looked away from Megatron's inspecting gaze. "Starscream?"

"Vos cannot serve as a long term base for your Decepticons."

"That is correct. Kaon is better fortified."

"And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Don't play dumb," Starcream growled, hating that they had to have this conversation in berth, when they should have been doing much more pleasant things. "I know you won't let me stay here."

To his surprise, Megatron laughed, "Let you?! Starscream, you're the Winglord. Your followers wouldn't stand for it were I to take you from them by force."

"Neither would yours," Starscream muttered. "And if I can't kidnap you, and you cannot kidnap me, that leaves us separated. Again."

The berth covers fluttered. And suddenly Megatron was braced on all fours above him. "Come with me."

Starscream blinked, and quickly cast away the image of Stellaforce in his minds eye, asking the same thing of him, but for entirely different reasons. "...This is my home. My purpose is to rule it."

"Your purpose is to rule," Megatron purred. "But why stop at Vos when you can take the planet?"

Starscream paused. "I-"

Megatron took his hand and held it, "An empire to rule together. A legacy worth leaving to our sparklings."

"Sparklings," Starscream repeatedly dumbly, tank twisting itself into knots.

Megatron kissed the palm of his hand, stroking a thumb across it. "What do you say, your majesty? Will you grace me with the presence of your company on my war campaigns? I don't know if you've heard, but I'm in the market for an Air Commander."

Starscream looked at the hand holding his, strong and blunt, and roughish and low-caste.

He smirked.

"Can I bring my crown?"

Megatron sank down to lie atop him, pressing their foreheads together, "You can bring as many crowns as you like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the last chapter, but there's still an epilogue to come!


	27. Four Million Years And An Epilogue

The Decepticon Empire had grown powerful and far reaching over the millennia, and even in the secluded galaxy of Delta IV there were whispers of their name.

Cloud Tread kept to himself as best he could, but he was running out of places to hide. It felt like there was a cold fist around his throat, and every few centuries the war would creep closer, and the hand would tighten. A galaxy overthrown, a world colonised, the Decepticons slipping into territory a hundred years ago he _never_ would have expected them to. The universe, impossibly, was shrinking.

Some part of him wondered, as he lay awake most nights -staring at the door, waiting for Decepticon soldiers to kick it down and drag him off screaming- if Starscream had known where he was from the beginning, and was just biding his time, dragging this out. Tormenting him slowly, like he had that night in the high-grade stores of the palace, watching him slowly bleed to death.

Cloud Tread would expect no less from him. He was every bit his sire's son.

He had resided in Delta IV for over a thousand years now, and it was such a backwater hole of a galaxy, with so little sentient life and nothing worth invading or conquering, that the chances of Decepticons venturing into the area by mere coincidence were slim.

He was beginning to grow comfortable enough to venture out some cycles, to fuel in public without fear of an assassin having poisoned his cube, without spending every second of his time staring at the door, watching the exits.

And it was that sense of comfort he could blame for finally getting him killed.

The bar was quiet, and he sat in it's darkest corner, a shawl thrown around his frame to hide his wings and frame-type from prying optics. He had changed his paint a thousand times over in the years he had been in hiding, and now it was black and silver, basic and unremarkable and unlike him.

He dragged his cube close and cupped it between his hands before taking a tentative sip. Just as the un-oiled door to the bar creaked open on it's track, spilling light into the dingy room.

 _Clack-clack-clack,_ heels walked across the unlevelled floor, the rhythm of that stride was a sound he could _never_ forget.

He inhaled his cube and choked on it when his optics tracked up and spotted a glimmering frame of red and blue and white. Starscream's full, dark lips were curved into a smirk, and Cloud Tread fell out of his chair with a gasp.

"Hello, old friend," Starscream greeted smoothly, sky blue hands planted on crimson hips, scowling Decepticon faces flashed in the light when he moved his wings.

Cloud Tread stared in horror, not just as the sight of Starscream, and all that came with him, _here_ , where he should have been safe from the past, but of how startling like Stellaforce he now looked. The optics. The jaw. The _smirk_.

"Starscream," he croaked. "Here to finally finish what you started?"

Starscream sighed and took a hand off his hip to study perfectly manicured claws. "No, Cloud Tread. Don't you remember what I said? You're _beneath_ me."

Cloud Tread blinked up at him on the dirty floor, "Then what are-?"

Starscream snapped his fingers and the door opened again. This time to admit a whole group of Decepticons. Cloud Tread's fuel pump was like a drum in his chest as they filtered in, one by one, filling the dingy room, swarming behind Starscream.

He recognised some of the Decepticons; an unruly medic, a thuggish warrior, Megatron's stoic lieutenant, all of them flanking Starscream alongside his deplorable trine-mates, who seemed to have joined their once Prince on this little expedition just for the satisfaction of seeing Cloud Tread's terror.

There was an extra seeker though, one he did not remember from the palace. A tall, _tall_ seeker, with red bodywork, and black hands and pedes. Her face was a paler grey than Starscream's, but she had his nose. She had his mouth. She had his cruel gaze.

And mounted on her back was the biggest sword Cloud Tread had ever seen. One he remembered well. _Megatron's_ sword, from the day in the gladiatorial arena. The sword that had given Starscream his first taste of blood.

Starscream noticed him looking, and beckoned the unknown seeker forward with a proud smirk.

"This, is my daughter," he said, placing his hands on her forearm. She was a full head taller than him, and although Megatron wasn't here to compare against, Cloud Tread could tell who her sire was. "She's the new Prince of Vos, the one you and my sire were always so _keen_ for me to make."

Cloud Tread swallowed thickly.

Starscream tilted his head up and looked at her, gaze softening a micron, "Had things gone differently, _you_ might have been in charge of raising her. As you were me. And you would have done everything in your power to make her as miserable as I was. And when she was old enough, you would have sold her off to the highest bidder. Like you did me." Starscream turned back to him, his gaze as cold as his tone once again. "Like what you helped do to my creator."

Cloud Tread shook his head, stuttering, "But, but I didn't kill your creator! You know that!"

"I know," Starscream nodded sadly, stepping back, letting his daughter move forward. Her shadow fell over Cloud Tread, and it was like Megatron himself was looming over him, Megatron with wings double the span of his own. Megatron with a seeker's ferocity.

"Which is why I'm not going to kill you." Starscream smiled. "And why she is."

The new Prince of Vos lifted her arm and took the hilt of her sire's sword. There was a ring of sharp metal being drawn from it's sheave.

The last thing Cloud Tread saw, before the sword came down in a smooth arc, was Starscream's clever smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone curious, their daughter's name is Terra, short for Terratron.


End file.
